Echoing Flames: The Darkest Hour
by TheShadowedWarrior
Summary: While ThunderClan struggles to heal in the wake of the devastation left by the pack of dogs, strange events are occurring in Twolegplace. Who exactly are these strange kittypets? Meanwhile, an old foe lurks in the shadows, hungry for revenge on the home that turned him out. The past few seasons are child's play compared to what Fireheart will have to face now.
1. Strange Whispers

**What do you MEAN, I don't own Warriors?! **

**(If this were an anime, this would be the part where I go into the emo corner, but this is fanfiction so just picture it in your head.)**

* * *

The forest was silent as Fireheart padded through the undergrowth, followed closely by Sandstorm, Runningwind, and Frostfur. He stepped over a clump of bracken, pausing momentarily to sniff the air. There was a faint scent of a robin, but it was stale–at least a day old if he had to guess–so he kept walking, careful to keep quiet so as not to disturb any potential prey. Not that he was holding out much hope; they hadn't seen so much as a mouse since leaving the camp.

_I guess leaf-bare really is on its way, _Fireheart thought, shivering as a cool breeze ruffled his fur. He turned to the rest of the patrol and meowed, "We'll head along the Twolegplace border and make our way over to Sunningrocks. Hopefully, we'll get lucky and find a nice squirrel or two along the way."

His companions all nodded in agreement, and the four cats veered off in the direction of Fireheart's old home. Of course, he supposed it couldn't be considered much of a home, but it had at least provided shelter and a place to live. Briefly, Fireheart wondered how the rest of his foster family was faring. In all likelihood, they probably had families of their own by now. He remembered the kittypet queen who had nursed him when he was taken in by the Twolegs after being lured away from Bluestar. Was she still alive, even after all this time?

_Most likely, after all, kittypets have an easier time staying alive than forest cats, _he thought to himself, chuckling silently. _I'm almost positive there was a cat who was alive before Nutmeg's _mother _was born. If she were a Clan cat, she'd be the oldest cat in the entire forest. __You know, as soft as kittypets are, I have to admit that the idea of a long life is very tempting...but then again, with all of the stuff that happens around here, sometimes I feel as if I've lived for a thousand moons. _

When they arrived at the border separating Twolegplace from the forest, Fireheart was puzzled to hear voices coming from the other side of the fence. It was still early out, barely past dawn, and he knew from experience that most kittypets preferred to sleep in. Curious as to what was going on, he leaped on top of the fence and peered over the edge. There, sitting at least a tree-length and a half away, were two kittypets. One of them was a black tom about the size of a young apprentice, and the other was a massive black and white tom. They bore collars adorned by what appeared to be strange white stones from his vantage point, although he was too far away to be entirely sure of what he was seeing.

"Fireheart?" Sandstorm meowed, staring at him in confusion. "What are you looking at?"

Instead of answering right away, Fireheart strained his ears to try to pick up on their conversation. They were being extremely quiet, which struck him as odd since kittypets rarely paid attention to volume control. A few moments passed, and he heard the black and white tom meow, "I don't see why we should have to ask these cats for help."

"Use your head, Bone," the black tom hissed. "We need as many cats on our side as possible. Strength comes in numbers. The more followers we have, the less resistance we will face."

"I understand, Scourge," Bone meowed, lashing his tail. "But–"

"No buts. You do not question my orders, Bone," Scourge snapped.

_Orders? _Fireheart repeated silently, narrowing his eyes. _But that would imply that Scourge is a leader of some sort. That doesn't make sense, though. Since when do kittypets have leaders...actually, for that matter, since when do they go around trying to recruit allies? _

Shaking his head in confusion, he turned around and leaped off the fence. As soon as he was back on the ground, Sandstorm repeated her earlier question, a slightly impatient look on her face.

"Sorry about that," Fireheart meowed apologetically. "There are two kittypets on the other side of the fence. They're talking as if they need to recruit allies for something."

"Allies?" Frostfur repeated, looking bewildered. "Why would kittypets need allies for anything?"

"No idea," he admitted, flicking his tail. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Maybe it was just a game," Runningwind suggested.

It was a reasonable suggestion, but Fireheart knew instinctively that it wasn't true. "No, I don't think that's it. They were being far too serious for it to have been a game."

"That is strange," Sandstorm meowed, frowning.

"There's something else too," Fireheart continued. "One of the kittypets mentioned something about having to face less resistance if they had more cats on their side, almost as if they were planning a raid of some sort."

"A raid?" the pale ginger molly repeated. "Why would a bunch of kittypets be raiding anything?"

"I don't know," he meowed grimly.

Frostfur tilted her head to the side. "Are you sure we need to worry? Surely they won't be able to find too many other kittypets interested in fighting. And even if they do, I mean, we should be able to take care of a few soft kittypets."

Fireheart wanted to believe that she was right. Yet seeing the way the two cats had behaved, a pit of doubt lingered in his stomach. They certainly _looked _like kittypets, but they didn't act anything like the ones he had known. Most kittypets were carefree and ignorant, almost like a newborn kit. Their only interests were playing with the neighbors or taking naps in the sunshine.

Scourge and Bone didn't exactly fit that description. There was a sophisticated, aloof air about them that sent a shiver down Fireheart's spine. Somehow, he knew that these weren't the typical soft, overfed kittypets he was so used to seeing.

"I don't know," he replied finally. "But we should report it to Bluestar all the same. I hope I'm just being paranoid, but you can never be too careful."

"I agree," Sandstorm meowed. "And we should send extra patrols this way every so often so we can keep track of what they're up to."

"That's a good idea," Fireheart agreed, nodding in approval. "I'll pass on the suggestion to Bluestar when I make the report."

With no reason to linger by the border any longer, Fireheart turned away and led the patrol deeper into their territory. A few mice had poked their heads out of their nests now, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as Sandstorm made quick work of killing one. Not too long ago, he would have been right at her side, catching mice to bring back to the fresh-kill pile.

Now, however, Fireheart was too preoccupied with the strange kittypets he had seen earlier. He had been in the Clans long enough to know what it sounded like when someone was planning an invasion. The question was, who were they planning on invading? Obviously, it wouldn't be Twolegplace since that would defeat the purpose of venturing there to seek allies, but that left only two options–the forest or the land beyond the houses.

_Let's hope it's the area beyond Twolegplace that they're interested in and not the Clans, _Fireheart thought grimly.

He wasn't feeling too optimistic about the odds of that either, though. If there was one thing he had learned over the past few moons, it was that he couldn't count on getting lucky.

_But then again, maybe it won't be so bad, _he reasoned, trying to look on the bright side. _I mean, they're still kittypets, right? Weird ones, admittedly, but kittypets all the same. Surely their lack of knowledge on the Clans would be enough to take care of them. _

Suddenly, a sickening thought crossed his mind. He remembered his encounter with Darkstripe just a few days ago when he was escorting Russetfur to the camp. The dark tabby had run off in the direction of Twolegplace, and he hadn't been seen since, which meant there was a good chance he was still there. If Scourge and Bone were recruiting allies, they had almost certainly spoken to Darkstripe by now. Was he working alongside them now? The former ShadowClan deputy had spent nearly his entire life as a Clan cat; he knew all there was to know about how they operated.

_If we really are the target of whatever invasion they're planning, Darkstripe can tell them everything they need to know._


	2. Concerning Developments

Bluestar was awake and washing outside her den when Fireheart and the rest of the patrol returned to the camp. She glanced up as her son approached her, purring and giving his ears a quick lick in greeting. Normally, Fireheart would have taken a few moments to bask in his mother's affection, but he had more pressing matters on his mind today. Sensing that something was wrong, Bluestar stepped back, looking at him with a worried expression on her face.

"Fireheart? What's the matter?" she asked.

"We saw something strange in Twolegplace today," Fireheart told her. "When we were passing by, I heard voices from the other side of the fence. I decided to see what was going on, and I saw two kittypets talking. Or, well, I don't know what they were. They certainly _looked _like kittypets with their collars, but they didn't really talk or act like any of the ones I knew. And they were talking about something rather...odd."

"What was it?" Bluestar inquired.

Fireheart furrowed his brow. "They were talking about gathering more followers. Scourge–that was one of the kittypets–said something about strength coming in numbers and how they would face less resistance if they had more allies. And he was giving orders to the other cat–his name was Bone, not that it matters–almost as if he were a leader of some sort."

"Are you sure they weren't just playing a game?" his mother asked skeptically.

"Kittypets don't play games like that," Fireheart replied, shaking his head. He suppressed a shiver as he remembered the cold, calculating tone of the small black kittypet. "And besides, the way they were talking...no, it definitely wasn't a game."

"I see," Bluestar murmured, looking troubled. "Thank you for telling me this, Fireheart. Make sure to tell the patrols to keep an eye out when they go near that area. I don't know if these kittypets will be of any threat to ThunderClan, but considering recent events, we can't be too careful."

Fireheart nodded in agreement and turned away, padding over to join Sandstorm and Cinderheart at the fresh-kill pile. As much as he wanted to believe that the kittypets weren't going to be a threat, his gut instinct told him otherwise. The most frustrating part was that there was no way to keep an eye on them to see what moves they planned to make next. Even worse, there was no way of knowing how long they had been plotting...whatever it was they were plotting. For all anyone knew, Scourge and Bone might have already gathered enough followers to take on all four Clans if they wanted.

Out of both cats he had seen so far, it was Scourge that concerned Fireheart the most. The tom was barely the size of a new apprentice, whereas Bone was massive–probably at least as big as Whitestorm, if not larger. If Fireheart had to guess, he would have thought that the black and white kittypet could have sliced Scourge open with one blow if he wanted. Yet somehow, it was Scourge, not Bone, who seemingly had the other in complete submission to his demands. Clearly, there was more to the small black tom that he hadn't seen, and Fireheart couldn't help wondering what sort of tricks he was hiding.

_I guess that's more proof that they aren't typical kittypets, _he mused, taking a bite out of his rabbit. _Most kittypets would follow Bone, not Scourge. _

"Fireheart! Bluestar!" A frantic yowl jolted him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Brackenfur and Snowpaw burst into the camp. "Come quick! Something terrible has happened."

In an instant, Fireheart was on his paws, followed closely by Sandstorm and Cinderheart. "Tell me what happened," he ordered.

"We were patrolling near the RiverClan border when we smelled blood," Brackenfur explained as Bluestar walked over to join them. "But we didn't hear any fighting prior to that, which we thought was strange. I went over to check it out while Ravenflight stayed near Snowpaw in case someone decided to attack. And, well..."

He trailed off, leaving the rest of his sentence unfinished. Not that Fireheart needed him to say anything else anyway. For at that moment, Ravenflight–the last remaining member of Brackenfur's patrol–padded into the camp with the bloody, unconscious form of Graystripe in his jaws.

* * *

"Great StarClan!" Sandstorm exclaimed, staring at the mangled mess of their former Clanmate.

Fireheart gaped at Graystripe for a few heartbeats, unable to believe what he was seeing. The gray warrior wasn't the strongest cat in the forest, but he was one of the larger ones and because of that, he could hold his own in a fight against almost any opponent. For someone to have beaten Graystripe so thoroughly, leaving him on the brink of death, was almost inconceivable.

"Move aside." Fireheart jumped slightly as Yellowfang strode over to join them, a bundle of herbs in her jaws. She must have smelled the stench of blood and realized there was an injured warrior in the camp. He watched as she bent forward to sniff at Graystripe. "He's alive, but only just. Give me space, everyone. I need to treat my patient."

"Come on, let's leave Yellowfang to tend to Graystripe," Bluestar meowed. "Ravenflight, will you take us to where you found him? Perhaps we can find out who his attacker was."

For a moment, Fireheart wondered why she was so concerned about an enemy warrior, and one that had betrayed ThunderClan, no less. Then he realized that it wasn't Graystripe she was worried about, but ThunderClan and perhaps RiverClan as well. If Ravenflight had brought Graystripe back to their camp instead of taking him to a RiverClan patrol, it meant the gray warrior had probably been attacked on ThunderClan land. That meant whoever attacked him was probably still on their territory, possibly waiting for another chance to strike.

_But who could have done it? _he asked himself.

The most logical explanation was that it was either a rogue or a ThunderClan warrior that had caught Graystripe on their land. Still, there was something off about both possibilities. Whoever had attacked Graystripe had clearly wanted him dead, indicating a personal vendetta of some sort. But while everyone in ThunderClan disapproved of his betrayal, nobody hated him enough to injure him so horrifically. As for rogues, most of them didn't go out of their way to harm Clan cats unless they had some sort of ulterior motive, and Fireheart couldn't imagine why any rogues would care that much about Graystripe.

Eventually, Ravenflight came to a stop at a spot a few fox-lengths away from the RiverClan border. The ground was stained with blood, and as Fireheart padded forward to sniff at it, he had to fight hard not to retch. Most of the time, he had a fairly strong stomach, but the scents of blood and RiverClan didn't make for a particularly pleasant combination.

"What can you smell?" he asked Sandstorm. She was the best tracker in the group and would be able to pick out scents the rest of the patrol couldn't.

"Brackenfur, Ravenflight, and Snowpaw's scents are all here," the pale ginger molly answered. "Graystripe too, of course, although his scent is just a little less fresh than theirs. And there's another one here too–definitely a rogue, but not any of the ones that we've seen before. But they definitely came from Twolegplace, though."

"Then that rogue is probably the cat that attacked Graystripe," Bluestar concluded, her face grim. "Fireheart, Sandstorm, try to track the rogue down and see if they're still on our territory. If they are, you know what to do. Ravenflight, come with me. I need to speak to Leopardstar to inform her of what has happened."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Fireheart asked skeptically. "Leopardstar isn't too fond of us, especially since we beat RiverClan when they tried to take Sunningrocks. If you tell her that you found Graystripe's bloody, beaten body on our territory, she'll probably just use it as an excuse to attack us."

"It is a possibility," Bluestar agreed. "But it's a risk we have to take. Besides, if Leopardstar realizes he's been gone for too long, she'll send a patrol to track him down, and his trail will lead to ThunderClan territory. It's best if we clear the air now instead of waiting."

Fireheart knew his mother was right, so he dipped his head respectfully and turned to leave with Sandstorm at his side. The rogue's scent led him in the direction of Twolegplace, which didn't surprise him considering Sandstorm's earlier revelation. As they continued on their way, his mind kept wandering back to Graystripe, being tended to by Yellowfang back in their camp. He wasn't fond of his former Clanmate, but never in a thousand moons would he have wished this on him.

"You're worried about Graystripe, aren't you?" Sandstorm asked, glancing over at him.

"A little," Fireheart admitted. "I know we aren't friends and sure, he's a traitor, but even he didn't deserve that. For StarClan's sake, Tigerstar did far worse things and he's still fine."

"I know," his mate agreed. "Why do you think anyone would want to hurt Graystripe so badly anyway? I mean, at the end of the day, it's just Graystripe. He's not really someone you'd think anyone would take an interest in, especially not a rogue."

"I'm not sure it was Graystripe specifically that the rogue had an interest in," Fireheart replied grimly. "But make no mistake, they definitely had an interest in _something_–or someone. This wasn't just a simple battle with a rogue that got out of hand. Whoever attacked Graystripe was on a mission–what for, I don't know, but one thing is for certain. They will stop at nothing to get what they want."

* * *

**So yeah, we're pretty much jumping straight into the action with this one. I decided to make it a point to write fewer filler chapters since I don't want this story to drag on any longer than necessary. Don't worry though, there will still be plenty of time for family bonding fluff. Also...possible redemption arc for Graystripe? Who knows? **

**I also really just want to get to BloodClan's official introduction to the Clans because I've got a plan for the battle that I've been dying to start writing. **

**Thanks for reading! **

**-TheShadowedWarrior**


	3. Troubling Discussions

Despite Fireheart and Sandstorm's best efforts, the rogue was nowhere to be found on their territory. They searched for nearly half the afternoon, but in the end, they were forced to accept that they must have gotten back to Twolegplace already. With no choice but to return home, the two cats did just that and were greeted by Bluestar, Yellowfang, and Ravenflight the moment they stepped inside the camp.

"Any luck?" Bluestar asked.

Fireheart shook his head. "We tracked them as far as the border, but they were already gone by the time we got there."

"We're sorry," Sandstorm added.

"I see," his mother murmured. "Don't worry about it, Fireheart, Sandstorm. You did your best."

"Did the talk with Leopardstar go alright?" the pale ginger molly inquired.

"Better than I expected," Bluestar replied, her tail twitching. "Although she was strangely callous about it. She thanked us for letting them know what happened and said that we could send Graystripe back to RiverClan as soon as he recovered. Based on previous experience, I would have expected her to be spitting fire at us. But I suppose she hasn't forgiven him for what happened to Whiteclaw."

_Whiteclaw...oh, right, the cat that fell over the gorge fighting Graystripe when we brought WindClan back home, _Fireheart thought. He hadn't been there for the battle, but he had heard the story about what happened from Bluestar. Out loud, he meowed, "I suppose that's fair. I mean, if a cat killed one of our warriors and joined ThunderClan later, I don't think I would feel too welcoming."

"I second that," Sandstorm added.

Yellowfang cleared her throat and everyone turned to look at her. "Graystripe is awake now," she meowed. "He asked if he could speak to you, Fireheart."

Fireheart blinked. "Me?" he repeated in confusion. "Not Bluestar?"

"Don't ask me. I don't have time to fathom the way his mind works, assuming it even works at all," the old medicine cat meowed, flicking her tail dismissively.

Bewildered, Fireheart could only nod as he turned and walked over to the medicine den. It had been several moons since he had spoken to Graystripe, and he couldn't help wondering what his former friend wanted now. The last time they had run into each other, he, Sandstorm, and Swiftrunner had done their best to drive him away with remarks, speaking to him with icy, sneering indifference. He doubted that the gray warrior had decided to come over for a friendly chat, but if he was here on important business, it seemed strange that he would ask to speak to Fireheart instead of Bluestar.

When he pushed his way into the den, Graystripe was sitting up in a makeshift nest, his pelt covered with various poultices. He dipped his head to Fireheart as he entered, and the flame-colored warrior nodded back silently. Fireheart suddenly realized that this was the first time he'd been alone with Graystripe since before the gray tom had left ThunderClan, and he felt his pelt prickle uncomfortably.

"Graystripe," Fireheart meowed curtly.

"Hello, Fireheart," the RiverClan warrior meowed quietly.

"Yellowfang mentioned that you wanted to speak to me?" he prompted, hoping to get the conversation over with as soon as possible. He didn't hate Graystripe anymore by any means, but he preferred to avoid spending time around him if possible.

Graystripe nodded. "It's about who attacked me," he answered.

"Do you know who it was?" Fireheart asked, flicking his ear in surprise.

"Not by name, no, but that's why I wanted to talk to you," Graystripe replied. "Leopardstar probably didn't mention anything about it to Bluestar, so I assume you don't know, but another warrior was attacked recently. Loudbelly, you know him? Mistyfoot's mate? We found him near the beech tree a few days ago. His wounds had the scent of crowfood and Twolegplace all over them. So I was just wondering...has something like that happened here yet?"

Fireheart narrowed his eyes. "And just why should I tell you if it has?"

"Fireheart, I know you have no reason to trust me, but I promise this isn't a trick," the gray warrior meowed, looking at him earnestly. "Rogue cats threaten all the Clans. You agree with me on that, don't you? Twolegplace is right next to ThunderClan territory; you're in more danger than anyone else. If these rogues are trying to hunt down Clan cats, don't you think we should be working together to take care of them?"

Fireheart studied Graystripe's expression for a few heartbeats, trying to see if he was lying, but saw nothing but sincerity in their yellow depths. He relaxed and meowed, "No, we haven't had anything like that happen to us yet."

"Okay," Graystripe meowed, nodding. "But you agree with me, don't you? That we would be better off dealing with the rogues as allies?"

"Perhaps," Fireheart murmured. He shook himself off. "We'll worry about that later, though. I'll leave you to rest, then."

"Alright," the gray tabby murmured. "Thanks for listening to me, Fireheart."

"No problem," he answered, twitching his tail. He paused for a moment, then added, "Just one more thing. Is there any particular reason you chose to tell _me _this instead of Bluestar? She is our leader, you know."

"Normally, I would have," Graystripe admitted, looking rather sheepish. "But I don't think she's ever forgiven me for attacking you...and I really don't need any more experience dealing with an overprotective queen."

Fireheart shook his head in amusement and padded out of the den, a slightly friendlier air between him and Graystripe now. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw play-fighting as his own kits looked on, but for once, he didn't pay them any mind. His thoughts were too preoccupied with his conversation with his former friend. If Graystripe was telling the truth, that meant there had been _two _attacks on Clan cats. What made it even more worrying was the fact that both attacks had been on RiverClan cats, not because Fireheart cared about the rival Clan (except for Mistyfoot and Stonefur), but because it meant that the rogues were clearly out for Clan blood. They must have been if they were willing to swim across the river just to attack a RiverClan warrior. He wondered briefly why they hadn't gone for ThunderClan first but figured that it was probably a trap to lure them into a false sense of security.

Perhaps they would be better off if they worked with RiverClan to deal with the rogues, he mused. But he still didn't feel too enthusiastic about the idea. It wasn't just Graystripe that Fireheart didn't entirely trust, it was Leopardstar as well and probably even more so. She wasn't the most honorable cat in the forest–nothing like Tigerstar, of course, but he often got the impression that she didn't care who she had to step on in order to bring RiverClan to the top. If ThunderClan allied itself with RiverClan, she would probably find a way to twist what really happened and use it as an excuse to take Sunningrocks.

_There I go again, being paranoid about everything, _he thought, shaking his head to himself. _I suppose it doesn't matter for now, though. We have those kittypets to worry about; we don't have time to concern ourselves with rogues, especially since no ThunderClan warriors have been attacked yet. With our luck, I'm sure it will happen eventually, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. _


	4. The Mad Rogue

Fireheart padded through the forest near Snakerocks with Sandstorm, Snowpaw, and Bramblepaw following him closely. He paused to sniff the air occasionally, keeping his senses alert for any sign of danger. The adders were already enough of a threat as it was, and with the strange rogues that were apparently roaming the forest and picking off Clan warriors, he didn't want to be caught off guard.

"Anything unusual, Fireheart?" Sandstorm asked, padding up to his side.

He shook his head. "All safe," he reported, resting his tail gently on Snowpaw's shoulder and blinking twice to let him know.

Snowpaw nodded, then glanced over to the rocks and back at Fireheart, tilting his head to the side and flexing the claws on his right forepaw. _Can I hunt? _

"Of course," Fireheart meowed, nodding. The white-furred tom's eyes lit up and he bounded off to the top of the rock formation, glancing around for any unsuspecting prey that might be lurking about.

"Come on, then," Sandstorm meowed, nudging Bramblepaw gently. "You should hunt too. The more we can bring back for our Clan, the better."

"Okay, Sandstorm," Bramblepaw agreed, turning around and racing over to join his denmate.

For the rest of the morning, Fireheart and Sandstorm watched over the apprentices while they hunted. Snowpaw was doing well, but Bramblepaw was another story. It was easy to see that the young tabby had inherited his father's size–he wasn't fully grown yet, which meant his paws were a little too big for him. Unfortunately, this had the effect of making him rather clumsy, causing him to miss a few catches. After he let a shrew escape him, he sat down, looking extremely dejected.

"Sorry, Sandstorm," Bramblepaw meowed, his head hanging.

"That's alright, Bramblepaw," Sandstorm meowed kindly. "You're still growing into your paws. It's natural for you to be a little clumsy."

"I suppose so," the tabby apprentice agreed. "But Tawnypaw is such a great hunter _and _a fighter. I just want to be as good as she is."

"Tawnypaw's probably already done growing. She's already gotten past her clumsy stage," Fireheart meowed. "But you seem to have inherited your father's size, Bramblepaw, so you probably have at least a moon before you're fully grown. But don't worry, I'm sure Sandstorm has ways to help you stop tripping over your own paws all the time until then."

"Naturally," Sandstorm huffed in a mock-haughty voice. Bramblepaw snickered slightly, looking a little more cheerful.

"Okay," he meowed, giving his chest fur a lick. "Thanks, Sandstorm, Fireheart."

"Of course. And Bramblepaw," Fireheart meowed, resting his tail on the younger tom's shoulder. "Don't feel bad if your sister is a better hunter or fighter than you. Sometimes, our siblings are just going to be more naturally gifted than we are and there isn't much we can do about it. We aren't going to think any less of you just because she happens to be a little stronger or a little better at stalking mice."

Bramblepaw relaxed visibly. "Thank you," he murmured. "That means a lot."

"Anytime," the flame-colored deputy replied warmly.

The rest of the hunt went by smoothly. Sandstorm had Bramblepaw practice his stalking a few times before he tried to catch any more prey, and by the end of the hunt, Fireheart thought his form had improved. He was still clumsy, but he managed to catch a respectable amount of fresh-kill nonetheless. Snowpaw had performed admirably as well, and Fireheart felt a surge of pride for both of the apprentices, knowing the Clan would be eating well that night.

As they walked back to the camp with their prey, however, Fireheart became aware that something wasn't right. There was a strange scent in the air, one that hadn't been there previously. It was definitely a cat, a molly to be specific, and she smelled of Twolegplace and crowfood. One glance at the expression on Sandstorm's face told him that his mate had picked it up as well.

"Who's there?" he called out, lashing his tail. "Show yourself!"

"It's coming from over that way," Sandstorm growled, pointing her tail toward a thick clump of nettles. "Hold on, I'll get her out here."

Fireheart nodded and watched as the pale ginger warrior stalked toward the clump of nettles, her eyes narrowed. Once she was a few tail-lengths away, she leaped forward, her claws outstretched. A yelp of pain came from the nettles as Sandstorm dragged out a solid brown molly by her scruff, tossing her unceremoniously onto the ground. The unfamiliar cat rolled over onto her stomach, spitting indignantly.

At once, Fireheart could tell that this was no ordinary rogue. Her pelt was unusually well-groomed and there was a red collar around her neck. With a sinking feeling of horror, he noticed that it was embedded with dog and cat teeth. He remembered the strange-looking white attachments he had seen on Scourge and Bone's collars and realized that they must have been teeth as well.

_Great StarClan, do they kill their enemies and then take their teeth as trophies? _Fireheart thought in mingled horror and disgust. Then he shook himself off. Whatever strange behaviors these cats exhibited, it was of no concern to him at the moment. There was a trespasser on his territory, and he needed to make sure she knew that she wasn't welcome.

"So," the molly sneered, curling her lip to reveal rows of blackened teeth. "Going to kill me, forest fool?"

"Who are you and what do you want?" he snarled, stalking up to the rogue.

She glared up at him, yellow eyes filled with hatred. "My name is Fang," she snarled. "And I'm a warrior of BloodClan."

"BloodClan?" Bramblepaw spoke up, looking confused. "What are you talking about? There's no such thing as BloodClan!"

"Quiet, Bramblepaw!" Sandstorm ordered sharply.

Fang laughed, a high, cold, maniacal laugh that sent a shiver down Fireheart's spine. "You think you know every Clan that there is, you stupid little tom? BloodClan has better and stronger warriors than any pathetic _forest _Clan could ever have. Just you wait. We'll pick you and your precious friends off, one by one, until there's nobody left to defend your precious territory. And once the last of your kind is dead, we'll be taking the forest as well as the town."

"I'd like to see you try," Fireheart sneered.

"Fireheart, what do you say we teach this rogue a lesson about how strong 'pathetic forest Clan warriors' can really be?" Sandstorm growled, her eyes glinting.

"She's all yours. Just make sure not to go too far, I'd hate to scar Bramblepaw and Snowpaw."

Sandstorm nodded and launched herself at Fang, her teeth bared and her claws outstretched. The brown molly barely had time to react before Sandstorm's teeth were buried in her shoulder, her claws raking her back. Fang snarled and slashed her claws over the pale ginger queen's shoulder, but Sandstorm barely flinched as she brought her paw down hard over Fang's head. Spitting in fury, the rogue tore herself free, sprinting off in the direction of Twolegplace.

"Should we go after her?" Sandstorm asked.

Fireheart shook his head. "Let's just let her go," he meowed. "I doubt she'll be coming back anytime soon, and besides, we need to report this to Bluestar. We can check later to see if she's really gone. I don't know what this BloodClan is, but something tells me that it's not a coincidence that we're hearing about it so soon after Graystripe and Loudbelly were attacked."


	5. BloodClan's Plot

Bluestar was roused from a light doze by the sound of cries of alarm coming from outside her den. Her fur bristling with apprehension, she pushed her way outside to see Fireheart, Sandstorm, Bramblepaw, and Snowpaw walking back into the camp. Sandstorm's fur was covered in dried blood, but she was walking without any support and from what Bluestar could see, she didn't appear to be too badly hurt, so she assumed the blood wasn't her own. Despite this, however, her son and his companions all wore the same grim expressions.

"Fireheart, what's wrong?" she asked, bounding over to her kit. "What happened to the four of you?"

"We think we might have found out who attacked Loudbelly and Graystripe," Fireheart replied gravely. "While we were out hunting, we found a rogue on our territory. A molly, and by the smell of her, I would guess that she was from Twolegplace."

"She wasn't like a normal rogue, though," Sandstorm added. "Other than smelling of crowfood, I mean. Her pelt was pretty well-groomed and she was wearing a collar. But the collar was embedded with cat and dog teeth."

Bluestar barely had time to be disgusted before Fireheart went on, "She told us that her name was Fang and that she was a warrior of...something called BloodClan. And she swore that BloodClan was going to hunt down every forest cat until there wasn't anyone left to defend our territory."

"Fireheart wasn't impressed by her," Sandstorm continued, flashing her mate an admiring glance. "And he told me to take care of her and send her on her way."

"Which she did with no problem, obviously," the flame-colored warrior meowed. "But it seems strange, don't you think? First, two Clan cats are attacked by rogues within days of each other, and now another rogue is trying to make threats against us. It doesn't really seem like it's entirely a coincidence."

"No, it doesn't," Bluestar agreed with a worried frown.

It had been one thing when they thought the attacks on Loudbelly and Graystripe had been the work of a few lone rouges. While troublesome, Bluestar felt they could have dealt with them eventually. Now, however, she was learning that there was supposedly an entire _Clan _of rogues–rogues that were somehow strong enough to kill dogs and use their teeth as trophies.

"So now we know of at least three cats who are members of BloodClan," she mused, half to herself. "And if I'm not mistaken, there have to be a lot more we haven't met yet."

"Five, actually," her son corrected her. "Scourge and Bone are BloodClan cats as well. I couldn't see clearly at the time, but I'm willing to bet that their collars were decorated with teeth as well. Scourge must be the leader of BloodClan."

"Did you ever meet anyone from BloodClan while you were in Twolegplace?" Sandstorm asked, glancing at Fireheart.

The fiery-colored tom shook his head. "It might not have formed yet while I was there, or maybe they just weren't interested in recruiting more members at the time. Twolegplace is a lot bigger than you might think. Two cats could both live there and never cross paths with each other if their homes were far enough apart."

"So it's possible that BloodClan could have more cats than all of the forest Clans combined?" the pale ginger molly clarified.

"That's right," Fireheart replied.

"That doesn't make sense," Sandstorm meowed slowly. "If there are so many of them, why not just attack the forest if they want to take it over so badly? Not that I want them to, of course, it just seems like a waste of time to try to pick off forest cats one by one if they have enough numbers to stage an attack."

"Because they're a bunch of cowards," Fireheart growled, and Bluestar almost winced; she rarely heard him sound so angry and hateful. "They don't have the courage to face us in an honorable battle because we probably still have enough numbers to beat them. That's why they're picking off Clan cats in the dark. They'll want to be absolutely certain that their victory is ensured before they lead a real raid."

He sounded absolutely certain, as though he had witnessed the BloodClan cats plotting against the forest Clans for himself. Bluestar couldn't disagree with him; it _did _sound exactly like the typical behavior of rogues. And wasn't that exactly what they were? These cats could claim to be a Clan all they wanted, but at the end of the day, they were still nothing more than rogues and loners, and it was obvious that their tendencies hadn't changed.

"Thank you for letting me know," she meowed finally. "Sandstorm, go see Yellowfang so she can check out your wounds. Bramblepaw, you and Snowpaw can grab something to eat. Fireheart, come with me. We need to discuss what to do about this...BloodClan."

Sandstorm nodded and padded off to the medicine den while Bramblepaw led Snowpaw over to the fresh-kill pile. Once they were gone, Bluestar beckoned for Fireheart to follow her to her den. As soon as they were inside, she settled herself in her nest and turned to face him.

"Alright," she began. "We need to make a plan to deal with BloodClan, preferably sooner rather than later. But until we find out more about them and why they suddenly want to take over the forest, there's not much we can do. So from now on, we'll increase the number of patrols we send to patrol the Twolegplace border. And everyone must travel in groups of at least two cats."

"That sounds like a good plan," Fireheart agreed. He hesitated, then added, "Do you think we should warn the other Clans? I mean, I personally don't care if ShadowClan gets destroyed, but there _are _meant to be four Clans in the forest and StarClan probably won't be pleased if we let one get picked off by a bunch of rogues."

Bluestar snorted with amusement. "I have to agree with you there, and you're right, we probably should give them a warning. Tell you what, the next Gathering is in two days. I'll make an announcement then."

"Alright," Fireheart meowed, nodding. "And we should probably increase battle training for the apprentices as well. Teach them how to fight like rogues. I hate to do it and I know it's _technically _against the code, but BloodClan cats obviously don't have morals and they won't care one way or another about killing us all. We can't afford to show them any mercy."

His words sent a chill down Bluestar's spine, not least because she knew he was right. Rogues didn't have a code that dictated what was right or wrong; the death of another cat meant absolutely nothing to them. She suspected that Scourge had been sending his weaker fighters into the forest to pick off Clan cats because it wouldn't matter one way or another if they were killed–after all, there were always more cats where they came from. While she didn't like the idea of abandoning her own morals–as a Clan warrior, she had always believed that killing should be avoided at all cost–she would do so if it meant protecting her home and her family.

"You're right," she meowed after a few heartbeats. "We need to teach BloodClan their place. This is _our _land. And if that means a few of them have to die in the process...so be it."


	6. Interrupted Gathering

The full moon shone down into the Gathering clearing as Bluestar observed the throng of warriors beneath her. They were late in starting the meeting, but WindClan had yet to show and the warrior code demanded that all four Clans be present before the Gathering began. Briefly, she wondered what could be keeping their moor-dwelling neighbors. It wasn't like Tallstar to be late and Bluestar worried that his sudden inability to keep to a timely schedule had something to do with BloodClan.

_But how would they even get all the way to WindClan territory without being seen? _she asked herself.

Leopardstar was still seated at the base of the Great Rock, most likely waiting to join Bluestar and Tigerstar once the meeting officially began. As Bluestar watched, she saw the RiverClan leader pad over to speak to Fireheart, who was in a conversation with two queens from ShadowClan whose names she couldn't quite remember. Fireheart, she noticed, did not appear too pleased by the arrival of their new companion.

"Greetings, Fireheart," Leopardstar meowed coolly. Bluestar wondered why she was speaking to him when she obviously held no fondness for the ThunderClan deputy.

"And to you," the flame-colored tom replied warily.

"I heard your Clan had some trouble with dogs recently," the spotted molly meowed, a glint in her eyes. "That is some terrible misfortune, I must say. But I trust that you were able to take care of the problem?"

Instead of responding, Fireheart explained to Leopardstar the best way to ingest a pile of fox dung before turning around and stalking over to Sandstorm, Ravenflight, and Silverstream, leaving the RiverClan leader looking extremely offended. Bluestar chuckled to herself, watching her kit fondly. She knew she should have reprimanded him for speaking so disrespectfully to a Clan leader, but she found it difficult to care about manners when it came to Leopardstar. A furtive glance in Tigerstar's direction told her that he, too, had found Fireheart's retort amusing, though he appeared to be trying hard not to show it.

After some time, the WindClan representatives finally arrived at Fourtrees. The WindClan warriors bounded into the clearing to mingle with the other attendees as Tallstar bounded onto the Great Rock to sit between Bluestar and Tigerstar. Leopardstar joined them a few heartbeats later, still looking irritated from her earlier confrontation with Fireheart.

"Good evening, Tallstar," Bluestar meowed respectfully. "What kept you tonight? It's not like your Clan to be late."

"I apologize, we ran into some trouble with a fox on our territory," the black and white tom apologized. "But it's all taken care of. We chased it across the border."

Bluestar wondered which border they had chased the fox across but decided not to ask. There were more important matters to be dealt with tonight. Clearing her throat, she let out a yowl to signal the start of the Gathering.

"Cats of all Clans, welcome," she meowed once the clamor had died down. "I know we all have news that we wish to share, but I'm afraid there is an urgent matter that needs addressing. My warriors have become aware of a force that threatens the forest and all who live within it."

Murmurs of alarm began to rise from the cats below the Great Rock. Only the ThunderClan warriors remained silent, but Bluestar could see the worry in their tense shoulders. Silverstream meowed something to Fireheart, who gave her a sympathetic look and flicked her shoulder gently. She glanced over at her fellow leaders and saw that all of them, even Tigerstar, looked grim at the thought of something coming to destroy their Clans.

"What is this threat you speak of, Bluestar?" Tallstar asked, his fur fluffed up.

"My deputy has informed me of a group of rogues claiming to be part of a group known as BloodClan," Bluestar replied, though she addressed her words to the throng of warriors beneath her. "They reside in the Twolegplace and are led by a cat who calls himself Scourge. I warn you, these cats are not like your typical rogues or loners. They fight as well as Clan cats and they wear collars embedded with dog and cat teeth."

Several cats let out exclamations of disgust and horror. Once they were finished, Leopardstar meowed, "Do you suppose these..._BloodClan _cats are the ones who attacked Loudbelly and Graystripe?"

Bluestar couldn't help feeling surprised that the proud RiverClan molly was openly admitting that two of her warriors had been attacked by rogues. Perhaps the potential threat to the forest was greater than her need to appear strong in front of the other Clans. Out loud, she replied, "We believe so, yes. The scent we found on Graystripe matches that of the description Fireheart gave of the rogue his patrol chased off a few days ago."

"But if they're part of an entire Clan, then why haven't we seen more of them yet?" Mistyfoot called out.

Fireheart spoke up this time, turning to address his older half-sister. "We think it's part of their plan," he meowed grimly. "The rogue we met said that they were going to pick us all off one by one so they could take over the forest. Most likely, they don't think they have enough forces to stage an all-out attack, so they're resorting to sending their weaker warriors to attack Clan cats who wander out alone."

"That's cowardly," Stonefur growled.

The ThunderClan deputy flicked his tail. "They're rogues, what do you expect? They can call themselves a Clan all they want, but that doesn't make them one."

Tigerstar spoke up next. "ShadowClan hasn't had any trouble with these cats," he began. "Although I doubt these cats would be able to cross the Thunderpath. But we will be sure to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity."

"You do that," Bluestar replied, not particularly caring what the ShadowClan leader chose to do with regards to the threat from BloodClan.

"Thank you for warning us, Bluestar," Tallstar meowed, dipping his head to her. "I don't suppose these cats will be any threat to WindClan anytime soon, but we will take this seriously. The forest has been our home since before either of our time and I would not like to see it lost."

The rest of the meeting progressed without incident from there. After Bluestar had stepped back, Leopardstar moved forward to speak next. Since she had already mentioned the attacks on Loudbelly and Graystripe, there was no need for her to repeat the announcement. Instead, she simply told the Clans that prey was running well in RiverClan and that they expected to be well-fed throughout the coming cold season. Tallstar announced that one of his Clan's apprentices, Gorsepaw, had earned his warrior name and was known as Gorsefire. Bluestar had a sneaking suspicion she knew where the suffix had come from and was unsurprised to see Morningflower giving a warm look to a rather embarrassed Fireheart. Finally, it was Tigerstar's turn to speak.

"ShadowClan has been doing well this past moon," he rumbled. "Prey is running well in our territory and the training of our apprentices is more than up to speed."

"I wonder if he enjoyed the gift we left on his territory," Bluestar heard Fireheart mutter to Sandstorm, who snickered.

Whether Tigerstar heard his former Clanmate as well or not, however, she never found out. For at that moment, a sharp exclamation came from one of the RiverClan warriors at the edge of the clearing. Lifting her gaze, Bluestar felt the fur rise along her neck as she saw the silhouettes of a long line of cats appear at the top of the slope. One by one, they descended into the clearing, led by a small black tom with icy blue eyes. She didn't need to ask to know who these cats were; their collars told her all that she needed to know.

The black tom padded forward until he was standing right at the base of the Great Rock. He lifted his head and spoke in a high, cold voice that sent a shiver down Bluestar's spine.

"I am Scourge, the leader of BloodClan," he meowed. "I do hope you have room for a few more tonight."


	7. Scourge's Deal

Bluestar stiffened as a row of BloodClan cats lined up at the edge of the clearing, effectively trapping their forest-dwelling neighbors. Down below, she could hear several cats whispering indignantly to each other. Fireheart was among them, as were the rest of the ThunderClan attendees and Bluestar's older children. She turned her attention back to Scourge, who was still standing at the base of the Great Rock. As their eyes met, she thought she saw a flicker of recognition in the black tom's eyes, but it was gone before she could be entirely sure of what she saw.

"Greetings, Scourge," Bluestar meowed after realizing that none of her fellow leaders had any intention of speaking up. "I am Bluestar, the leader of ThunderClan. What is your purpose in coming here to our territory?"

"It doesn't matter why they came," Tigerstar broke in before Scourge could respond. "This is a sacred meeting place. We don't welcome rogues, here or in any other part of the forest. You and your _Clan _must leave at once."

At that, the self-proclaimed BloodClan leader's eyes snapped to look at Tigerstar. Even Bluestar, who despised the ShadowClan leader, was startled by the expression on Scourge's face. It was beyond anger, it was pure, unadulterated hatred. Judging by the way Tigerstar's fur prickled along his spine, she guessed he wasn't entirely unbothered by the loathing in the smaller tom's eyes. She couldn't help feeling puzzled as well; Tigerstar had certainly spoken disrespectfully and she could understand if Scourge was angry that the dark tabby hadn't allowed him to answer Bluestar's question, but his reaction went beyond that of simple resentment over a lack of courtesy and she wondered if there was some sort of history between the two that she wasn't aware of.

"I brought my Clan here to make a proposition," Scourge meowed, his voice as cold as the bitterest leaf-bare. "A recent...ally that I had the good fortune to meet informed me that you would all be gathered here tonight in peace under the full moon."

"And just who told you that?" Bluestar asked warily.

Even as she asked the question, however, she was certain that she already knew the answer. Sure enough, several BloodClan warriors parted at the edge of the clearing to reveal a familiar dark gray tabby. He was noticeably thinner and he was now bearing a teeth-studded collar of his own, but there was no mistaking those yellow eyes. Tigerstar stiffened a few tail-lengths away and several warriors from all four Clans raised their hackles and snarled at the newcomer.

"Good evening, everyone," Darkstripe sneered. "I see you've met my new friends."

"What are you doing here, _traitor_?" Stonefur spat, his fur bristling.

The former ShadowClan deputy's eyes narrowed. "Traitor? Oh no, Stonefur, it is _you _and everyone else here who are the traitors. You abandoned me to become a _kittypet_. Do you have any idea how shameful that was?"

"As if we should care about the dignity of a murderer!" Silverstream yowled shrilly, causing Onewhisker, who had the misfortune of being seated right next to her, great distress.

"_You!_" Bluestar didn't need to look to see who was speaking this time; the rage and hatred in the voice told her all she needed to know. Willowpelt pushed her way forward, her hackles raised and her eyes blazing with blue fire. "You murdered my son! How _dare _you show your face here again? I'll teach you and every cat here what happens when you hurt my family and have the nerve to stand before me again!"

"Your little brat got what he deserved!" Darkstripe sneered, and several cats gasped. Bluestar couldn't blame them. Did he truly feel no remorse over the fact that he had murdered a defenseless kit? "He was in my way. I was serving my Clan–"

"You were stealing prey from ThunderClan territory," Fireheart interrupted, his tail lashing.

Darkstripe flicked his tail. "My Clan needed to be fed. It matters not where the prey came from. Anyway–"

"As I recall, it matters a great deal. The warrior code states that we cannot hunt or trespass on another Clan's territory!" Mistyfoot snapped.

The dark gray tom glared at her. "The warrior code means nothing!" he snarled. "What do I care about Clan traditions or loyalty anyway? You all betrayed me, all of you! You, Tigerstar! I was your most loyal ally. I gave up my home and lived as a rogue to follow you. And how do you thank me? You allow me to be driven out of Clan territory and then you don't even bother to search for me! Instead, you replaced me with that pathetic kittypet! But you'll get what's coming to you, all of you will! Mark my words. My new allies and I will drive you from your homes, one by one. And if you cross my path, I'll kill you just like I did that worthless, good-for-nothing ThunderClan brat!"

That was the final straw for Willowpelt. With a terrifying screech, she launched herself at her son, her claws outstretched. Darkstripe barely had time to react before she had pinned him to the ground, her fangs buried in his throat and her claws raking his belly. He struggled against her grip, but Willowpelt was a powerful fighter and her rage over her dead kit's memory being insulted appeared to lend her strength beyond what was mortal. She slashed her claws over Darkstripe's eyes, and the shriek of horror and fear that erupted from the treacherous tom told Bluestar that the strike had blinded him. There was no doubt that she could have easily killed him by now, but Bluestar realized that Willowpelt was trying to make Darkstripe's death as slow and painful as possible. She glanced over to see if any of the BloodClan warriors would come to Darkstripe's aid, but all of them were watching with a sort of icy indifference.

_Some allies they're turning out to be, _Bluestar thought to herself in amusement.

"Willowpelt," Darkstripe's voice gurgled as blood bubbled up in his mouth. "Have...have mercy. It's me, your son. You–you wouldn't..."

Willowpelt glared down at the dark gray tabby coldly before bending down and hissing something into his ear. Although her voice was soft, every single cat in the clearing heard her words as clear as day.

"You are no son of mine," she snarled. "May our ancestors renounce you just as I have."

With that, she slashed her claws over his throat one more time. Darkstripe didn't even have time to whimper in pain before his life was snuffed out, leaving him in a pool of blood in the middle of the clearing. Willowpelt stepped off of his body and turned to walk back to her Clanmates, her expression full of grim satisfaction. Most of the clearing was silent as everyone tried to digest what they had just seen–everyone, that is, except for the ThunderClan cats, all of whom congratulated Willowpelt on giving Darkstripe exactly what he deserved. Bluestar glanced up at the moon, which was still shining as bright as ever. Clearly, their warrior ancestors approved of what the pale gray queen had done.

After a few moments, Scourge spoke up again. "We...regret the loss of your son," he meowed in a voice that said the exact opposite. "However, as I mentioned earlier, I came to the forest with a proposition. My Clan has too many mouths to feed, and the town cannot possibly sustain all of us, not to mention not everyone enjoys eating carrion. With your territory, we would be able to feed ourselves a hundred times over."

"And you expect us to just bend over and leave, is that it?" Tallstar asked contemptuously.

"No," Scourge meowed evenly, looking up at the WindClan leader. "I expect you to fight. That brings me to the second part of my proposition. The forest should belong to whichever group is the strongest. You agree with me on that, I'm sure. Therefore, I will give each of you a quarter moon to sharpen your battle skills. When that time is up, we will meet here again and battle for three sunrises. Whoever has the most cats left alive by the end of those three days will earn the right to the forest."

"And how can we expect you to keep your deal if you lose?" Leopardstar sneered.

"I have honor," Scourge replied, and Bluestar had to suppress a snort. "So, what do you say? Do you accept my offer? Let us see which of our groups truly deserves to call the forest their home."

Tigerstar was the first to reply. "ShadowClan accepts your bargain. We will battle your warriors in a quarter moon–and we will see to it that all of you suffer the same fate that Darkstripe did tonight."

"WindClan accepts as well," Tallstar added.

Leopardstar stepped forward next. "RiverClan will fight to the death to defend our home," she hissed, her eyes flashing. "We accept your offer."

Now it was Bluestar's turn. She knew what her answer had to be, but she also realized what implications it could have for her Clan. Even if all went well, she would undoubtedly be sending at least a few of her cats to their slaughter. How could she call herself a leader if she did that? The well-being of her Clanmates was supposed to be her top priority. Yet as Bluestar looked at the warriors she had chosen to attend tonight's Gathering, seeing the determination and fury on their faces, she felt a spark of pride. They knew what they were getting themselves into and they were ready to do whatever it took to protect their home. Her gaze locked with Fireheart's, and the ferocity in his emerald-colored eyes gave her the final push she needed.

"ThunderClan accepts your offer as well," Bluestar meowed, her voice ringing out loud and clear. "And let it be heard today that any blood that stains the ground will be that of BloodClan warriors."

Scourge dipped his head. "Very well," he meowed. "Until a quarter moon from now, then. My Clan and I will return to the town while we wait."

_Until a quarter moon from now, indeed,_ Bluestar thought as she watched Scourge lead his warriors away from Fourtrees. _And we will see to it that it's the last time you and your band of rogues set a single paw on our land. _


	8. Battle Preparations

Tensions were running high throughout the camp over the next several days. Everyone, even the elders, was busy preparing for the battle against BloodClan. Dappletail, Speckletail, and Halftail busied themselves with fortifying the camp walls and nursery entrance in case BloodClan managed to break into the camp somehow. Bluestar sent delegations of warriors to the other Clans to discuss battle tactics. Even Graystripe was helping out where he could, keeping the kits entertained and assisting the elders with their work since he wasn't strong enough to return home yet. However, none of the cats in ThunderClan were as busy as Fireheart. In the wake of the upcoming fight, he had taken on the responsibility of creating and teaching new battle techniques–ones that could be used to kill if necessary.

It was strange to think that only a few moons ago, he wouldn't have dreamed of ever teaching such tactics. Fireheart didn't like what he was doing, but he knew it was necessary. If he had to make a choice between watching his Clan lose their home and sacrificing a few rogues, he would choose his Clan every single time. Besides, BloodClan had no place in the forest.

"Alright," he meowed to the apprentices, all of whom had formed a line and were watching him intently. "Fernpaw and Ashpaw, you two are the oldest apprentices, so you'll be allowed to be in the thick of the fighting. Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw, you'll be with them as well. The rest of you will be responsible for guarding the camp."

"But I want to fight!" Squirrelpaw protested.

"Me too!" Redpaw echoed.

"Why can't we help?" Rainpaw added. Snowpaw didn't speak but nodded fervently in agreement, having figured out from Fireheart's signals what was going on.

Sandstorm stepped forward. "We understand that you want to help your Clan," she meowed soothingly. "But this battle is too dangerous for the four of you. This isn't going to be like the skirmish with RiverClan over Sunningrocks. These cats don't have a moral code; they won't hesitate to kill you and you haven't been training for long."

"Don't worry," Fireheart added, resting his tail on Squirrelpaw's shoulder. "There's a chance a few of BloodClan's warriors will reach the camp, so we'll still be teaching you some fighting moves to use on them. But we would rather you avoid the thick of the battle."

Squirrelpaw looked as though she wanted to protest, then let out a sigh. "Alright," she agreed.

"Good," Fireheart meowed. Switching to a more businesslike tone, he continued, "Now, except for Bramblepaw, all of you are on the smaller side, so you're going to need to rely on more than just brute strength to bring your opponents down. Speed will help with avoiding killing blows, but it won't help with delivering them. Therefore, our first lesson of the day will be on using the terrain to your advantage. We'll head over to Sunningrocks and I'll explain more once we get there."

The apprentices exchanged excited but nervous glances before following him and Sandstorm out of the clearing. Fireheart was relieved to see the anxiety in their expressions. If nothing else, it was at least proof that they were leery of learning killing moves. Briefly, he wondered how the discussions with the other Clans were coming along. Part of him was wary of working with Tigerstar, but Fireheart had to admit that if he had a choice, he would rather have the formidable warrior on his side.

When they arrived at Sunningrocks, Fireheart was surprised to see Mistyfoot, Stonefur, Featherpaw, and Stormpaw on the opposite side of the river. Judging by the look of things, they were practicing terrain-related fighting techniques as well. RiverClan warriors were well known for their affinity with water; perhaps they were learning how to drown their opponents. He bounded down the slope, turning their attention to him.

"Hello there, Fireheart," Stonefur meowed, his tone and expression friendly. "Are you training your apprentices as well?"

"We are, yes," Fireheart answered, dipping his head to the other deputy. "I thought I would teach them some terrain fighting. I hope we're not in your way."

"No, not at all," the RiverClan deputy reassured him. "Good luck."

"Is Graystripe okay?" Featherpaw spoke up, looking worried. Fireheart remembered then that Graystripe was her father.

"He's doing much better," he told her kindly. "Yellowfang and Spotpaw are working hard to heal him. I expect that he'll be able to go back to RiverClan after the battle."

Featherpaw let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you, Fireheart," she meowed sincerely. "I'll tell Silverstream and Stormpaw when I get back home."

Fireheart nodded to her before turning around and returning to his own patrol. They were waiting patiently at the top of the rock formation, although Squirrelpaw and Ashpaw looked rather eager to get started. He glanced around the area, looking for any loose rocks, then turned to speak to the ThunderClan apprentices.

"Alright," he began after a few heartbeats. "This particular technique will work best with partner fighting, but it's not impossible to do it on your own. For this move, you need to pin your opponent down, preferably on their stomachs and with your full body weight so they can't knock you off. Once you have them down, pick up a decent-sized rock and bring it down on their head."

"We won't strike each other with rocks today so we can avoid any accidents," Sandstorm meowed. "But we can practice the rest of the move. Ashpaw and Bramblepaw, why don't you two demonstrate it for us first?"

The two apprentices nodded and took a few paces forward, standing so they were about three tail-lengths apart from each other. After a few heartbeats, Ashpaw made the first move, launching himself at Bramblepaw. Before he could land a blow, however, Bramblepaw sidestepped him and used his denmate's momentum against him to send him crashing into the ground, pinning him onto his stomach. Ashpaw struggled mightily, but the dark tabby's greater weight kept him down and Bramblepaw finished by miming bringing a rock over his head.

"Excellent, Bramblepaw! Well done," Sandstorm meowed approvingly. Bramblepaw's eyes lit up at the praise.

"Ashpaw, that wasn't bad for a first attempt. But do you know where you went wrong?" Fireheart asked.

Ashpaw looked thoughtful for a few moments, then replied slowly, "I didn't get up in time after Bramblepaw knocked me over?"

"Exactly right. It's not always easy to avoid being sidestepped as you were, but if you lose your balance, you must get up immediately or at least move out of the way. After you fell, you should have rolled to the side. That would have given you a little more time to get your bearings and get back to your paws. You're a fast cat, so use your speed to your advantage."

"Okay," the gray tom meowed, nodding fervently. "I understand, Fireheart."

Fireheart nodded, then turned to the rest of the group. "Now that you've seen what to do, I want all of you to divide up and practice the move. Ashpaw and Bramblepaw, you two keep working together. Tawnypaw, you'll be with Rainpaw. Squirrelpaw and Redpaw, the two of you will be a team. And Sandstorm, you can train with Snowpaw and Fernpaw. I'll watch all of you and help out where I can."

The rest of the patrol nodded and broke into the pairs as he had ordered them. Sandstorm placed her tail on Snowpaw's shoulder and beckoned for him to follow her, which he did so after flicking Squirrelpaw's ears briefly. Fireheart was torn between amusement and exasperation at the look on the two apprentices' faces. It was obvious to anyone who looked that they had feelings for each other, but there was a time and a place for flirting and this definitely wasn't it.

After the apprentices had started training, Fireheart took to pacing back and forth between the pairs, watching every move critically and giving advice or praise when necessary. Bramblepaw, being easily the largest of the group, mastered the technique easily. However, Ashpaw was improving steadily and even managed to beat the dark tabby once or twice. It appeared that he had taken Fireheart's warning to keep moving at all times to heart and rarely paused to take a breath. Squirrelpaw, Redpaw, Rainpaw, and Tawnypaw were doing well for themselves too, although they lacked the physical strength that Bramblepaw possessed or the speed of Ashpaw. Fireheart noted that they would most likely be using partner fighting combined with this move in the real battle.

"Keep yourself moving, Fernpaw. If you fall over, remember to get out of the way immediately," he meowed to the gray molly, who nodded before leaping at Snowpaw again.

"Remember, the key to winning any battle is staying focused. Keep an eye on your surroundings at all times. These cats won't use honorable techniques, so remain vigilant and don't let yourself be caught by a blindside attack."

"Fantastic, Rainpaw!" Fireheart praised his daughter when she finally managed to pin down Tawnypaw.

"Speed and strength are always important, but there's something that's even more important than that: believing in yourselves. Remember what we're fighting _for_. This forest has been our home for generations. Think about it like this: countless cats before us have laid down their lives to protect ThunderClan's territory. If you want to honor their sacrifices, then allow _nothing _to stand in your way."

They continued training until sunset. Finally, when it was obvious that no one could go on any longer, Fireheart decided to call it a day. Despite the exhaustion on everyone's faces, however, there was a collective feeling of pride in the air. The first training session had been an unquestionable success, and they were one step closer to being able to defeat BloodClan for good.


	9. Doubts

Before Fireheart knew it, the final night before the battle against BloodClan had arrived. After going through one final training session with the apprentices, they decided to call it a day so everyone would be well-rested for the next morning. As Goldenflower and Willowpelt wandered through the camp, making sure everyone was eating, Fireheart padded over to confer with Bluestar and the other senior warriors.

"Is everything in order for tomorrow?" he asked Bluestar.

His mother nodded. "Whitestorm's patrol just returned from their final meeting with ShadowClan. Apparently, Tigerstar kept them a while coming up with different battle strategies."

"That doesn't surprise me," Fireheart admitted, chuckling ruefully. "I imagine that he probably spends a lot of time thinking up ways to defeat his enemies. I'll say one thing, I'm glad he's fighting on our side."

"So am I," Whitestorm agreed. "Call it a lesser of two evils, I suppose."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Bluestar meowed, sounding as though she were quoting someone, although Fireheart had no idea who it could be. "Anyway, here's the plan for tomorrow. Longtail and Ashpaw will guard the camp entrance. Willowpelt will guard the nursery and the younger apprentices will protect the other dens. Fireheart, Sandstorm, Graystripe, Mousefur, Bramblepaw, and Fernpaw will drive a group of BloodClan warriors to Sunningrocks. A RiverClan patrol will be waiting there to assist you. I'll take a patrol with Whitestorm, Dustpelt, and Brightheart toward the moorland. Swiftrunner and Thornclaw will attempt to chase the rogues onto the Thunderpath with a ShadowClan patrol assisting if any of them happen to make it across to the other side. As for everyone else, they'll try to keep the rest of the fighting contained so BloodClan can't try to make a break for any of the camps."

Fireheart nodded slowly, trying to register everything his mother had told him. "Alright," he meowed finally. "I think I've got it."

"Are all of the apprentices ready for battle?" the blue-gray molly asked.

"As ready as they'll ever be," he replied honestly. He flicked his tail. "Ideally, they would be given more time to prepare, but under the circumstances..."

Fireheart let his words trail off as he looked away, wondering if he really _had _done all he could to prepare them for the battle. Perhaps he should have spent more time with them on the techniques they would be using. After all, a little more practice never went amiss. More importantly, what if they froze up during the fight? Due to the amount of pressure they were under, Fireheart hadn't bothered to go over techniques on how to keep a level head before going into a battle, and he could only hope that it wasn't going to come back to bite him later.

He felt Bluestar rest her tail on his shoulder. "Relax," she murmured gently. "No matter what, I'm sure you did all you could. You're a good mentor, Fireheart."

"Maybe," Fireheart acknowledged, twitching his ear. "But it might not be enough. A quarter of a moon isn't a lot of time to teach anything. I don't know if I've ever seen anyone learn something new that quickly."

"Have faith, Fireheart. The apprentices are all capable fighters," Whitestorm meowed firmly. "Tawnypaw told me about the speech you gave them during their first session about believing in what you're fighting for. They took your words to heart, you know, and they aren't going to want to let their Clanmates down."

Fireheart glanced away, staring down at his paws. "I suppose so," he agreed after a few moments. "It's just that...I mean, I'm not completely mouse-brained. I know cats are going to die within these next three days no matter what. But the fact that tonight will be the last time I ever get to speak to some of my Clanmates isn't exactly the easiest thing in the world to wrap my head around. And even so...what if it's still not enough? What if we've all condemned our Clanmates to die for nothing?"

"I understand how you feel," Bluestar meowed softly. "I'm worried about the future of the forest as much as you are, Fireheart. The Clans have never faced something like this before, at least not anytime that anyone can remember. But StarClan has decreed that there must be four Clans in the forest, and we must have faith that they won't let that change no matter what."

The flame-pelted tom didn't say anything to that. He knew Bluestar was right, but at the same time, he couldn't help thinking that there were some things even StarClan couldn't stop. After all, aside from delivering prophecies, what were their warrior ancestors really capable of? He respected them, of course, but at the end of the day, it would be the living cats who took care of BloodClan. Besides, technically speaking, there _had _been fewer than four Clans in the forest at one point–when Brokenstar and his allies drove WindClan out of their hunting grounds. StarClan certainly hadn't done anything to stop ShadowClan then.

Irritated with himself, Fireheart shook his head to clear it. What was the matter with him? He shouldn't be thinking like this now, not when he needed to be focused on tomorrow's fight. It was his duty as ThunderClan's deputy to make sure he was ready to battle to the best of his abilities, and he couldn't do that if he was brooding over the inaction of his ancestors.

Dipping his head to Bluestar and Whitestorm, he turned and padded over to the warriors' den, hoping that a night of sleep would ease his worries. Before he could even get halfway there, however, Goldenflower intercepted him, a stern look on her face.

"And just where do you think you're going?" she demanded. "You need to eat, Fireheart. I haven't seen you take anything from the fresh-kill pile all day."

"I'm not that hungry," Fireheart protested, shaking his head. "The others need it more than I do. I'll be fine without food for tonight."

"Not going to work on me," Goldenflower retorted. "Honestly, Fireheart. I know you have it in your head that you need to take every burden on your shoulders, but if you don't take care of yourself, you're going to end up dead. And what do you think Bluestar would do if she lost you?"

Fireheart flinched at that. He knew how much his mother worried about him and he hated the thought of hurting her any more than he already had. She had always been overprotective of him, and the fact that he had nearly gotten himself killed on multiple occasions already didn't help matters. If he died tomorrow, he didn't want to think about how much pain he would cause her.

"Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "But just a small mouse. I think I might be sick if I try to eat anything more than that."

"Alright," the ginger queen agreed, gently resting her tail on his shoulder. "Have faith, Fireheart. We're all worried about tomorrow, believe me. I'm as afraid for my family as you are for yours. But no matter what happens, we–all of us–are here to support each other until the end. That's the one thing that will never change as long as we live."


	10. The Start of the Battle

The other Clans were already waiting at Fourtrees by the time ThunderClan arrived the following morning. Fireheart padded to stand in between Bluestar and Stonefur, nodding briefly to the RiverClan deputy. His half-brother gave him a curt nod in return but remained silent. Tension crackled through the air, and Fireheart realized just how nervous the rest of the Clans were. They all knew what lay at stake today. If they were defeated, it meant the destruction of the Clans and everything their ancestors had worked for.

_No, _Fireheart told himself firmly. _We will not lose. The Clans will survive this battle._

Finally, as the sun was almost completely over the horizon, Scourge and the rest of the BloodClan warriors arrived. The small black tom padded forward until he was standing directly in front of Bluestar, his icy blue eyes glinting in the morning light. Unlike the rest of the Clan warriors, none of the BloodClan representatives showed any sign of nervousness. Their gazes radiated nothing but icy confidence, and Fireheart realized that they were utterly convinced of their victory.

_Good, that will make them overconfident, _he thought.

"Greetings," Scourge meowed, his voice as high and cold as ever. "This is your final opportunity. Do you wish to spare the lives of your cats and leave the forest in peace? If you agree, we will allow you to walk away without a fight."

Bluestar glared at him, and Fireheart suppressed a shiver at the fury in his mother's gaze. "Never!" she spat. "This is _our _home!"

Scourge's eyes narrowed. "Very well," he sneered. "BloodClan, attack!"

At his command, the clearing exploded into utter chaos. A brown and white tom launched himself at Fireheart, who quickly ducked underneath him, kicking his back legs out and sending the BloodClan warrior flying into a tree. He stood up quickly, spitting furiously, only to be knocked down by a blow from Shadepelt of RiverClan. The dark gray molly slashed her claws over his throat, sending him crumpling to the ground. This time, he did not get back up.

Remembering his assignment, Fireheart signaled with his tail for the cats in his patrol to follow him. Once they were ready, he gave another signal and they launched themselves at a group of BloodClan cats that had broken away from the rest of the pack. They chased the rogues in the direction of Sunningrocks, where a RiverClan patrol consisting of Mistyfoot, Loudbelly, Featherpaw, and Stormpaw were waiting for them.

"Right on time," Mistyfoot meowed briefly to Fireheart, leaping on top of the black molly and hurling her into the river. With a cry of fear, the rogue's head disappeared underneath the fast-flowing water.

"Shadow! No!" another molly, this one with dark ginger fur and amber eyes, howled.

Her eyes blazing with fury and hatred, the ginger molly hurled herself at Mistyfoot. Before she could reach her, however, Fireheart leaped to intercept the attack–except he wasn't the only one to do so. From several tail-lengths away, Loudbelly launched himself at the rogue's back, intent on protecting his mate. The dark ginger rogue never stood a chance, and two blows to her neck from their claws finished her off.

_That's two down, _Fireheart thought, glancing around the battlefield. _And still, several more to go. _

"Alright there, Fireheart?" Sandstorm yowled to him as she pinned down a gray tabby, raking her claws over his eyes.

"Never better," Fireheart called back.

"Good, then let's deal with the rest of them," his mate replied.

She sprang forward, landing squarely on top of a white tom with green eyes. The rogue struggled mightily against her grip, but he was no match for her. Not far behind, Fireheart picked up a nearby rock and brought it down hard over the white tom's head. There was a sickening crunch, and the rogue's struggles ceased immediately as the stone made contact. Just to be safe, Fireheart slashed his claws down his belly, and Sandstorm hurled his body against a rockface. If he wasn't dead before, he certainly was now.

They continued to battle side by side after that. As a team, Fireheart and Sandstorm were unstoppable. The ThunderClan deputy already had a reputation for being a fierce and relentless battler, and when faced with the possibility of losing his home, he knew he couldn't hold back. Sandstorm, if possible, was even more vicious than her mate, and both cats were fighting hard to protect each other. Every rogue that made the mistake of crossing their path was dealt with mercilessly, and soon, the entire clearing was littered with bodies.

"How many more are there?" Graystripe asked, racing over to them. His flanks were heaving and blood dripped from a wound in his side, but his yellow eyes were gleaming.

"Do you see any BloodClan cats still standing?" Fireheart asked, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"Just two more," the gray warrior answered, glancing around.

"Then the answer is too many. Come on, we've got work to do," Fireheart replied grimly.

Before they could launch another attack, however, a yowl of pain sounded from behind them. Spinning around, Fireheart felt his stomach clench in horror when he saw Stormpaw being pinned down underneath the two remaining BloodClan cats. The young apprentice was fighting valiantly, but he was considerably smaller than his opponents and couldn't quite manage to throw them off. Without thinking, Fireheart sprang forward at one of the rogues, knocking him away from Stormpaw. Caught by surprise, the pale gray tom was unable to defend himself, and he was slammed into the ground painfully as Fireheart's claws connected with the back of his head.

"If you want to fight two on one, I suggest picking on someone your own size," the flame-colored warrior snarled, delivering a killing bite to the back of the BloodClan rogue's neck.

Giving the rogue's body one last kick, Fireheart stood up and turned around to see Graystripe making short work of Stormpaw's other attacker. Confident that his old friend wouldn't need his help, he bounded over to the wounded apprentice. Stormpaw's eyes were screwed shut and blood was pouring from a gash in his stomach. He was still alive, but he was running out of time and there was no way they could get him to a medicine cat in time.

"Stormpaw!" Graystripe exclaimed, staring at his son.

"Mistyfoot, go find some cobwebs. Bring them back here as quickly as you can," Fireheart ordered.

If Mistyfoot was at all bothered about being ordered around by a cat from another Clan, she didn't show it. Instead, she nodded and turned around, racing off toward the forest. Fireheart turned his attention back to Stormpaw as Graystripe began pressing a paw against his son's flank, trying desperately to staunch the bleeding. A moment later, a distraught yowl caught their attention.

"Stormpaw! Stormpaw, no!" It was his sister, Featherpaw. She raced over from the opposite side of the battlefield, staring down at her brother in horror. "Wake up! We won, Stormpaw! You can't leave us!"

"Here, let me help," Fireheart meowed, taking up a spot on the injured RiverClan cat's other side and pressing his paw down onto the wound. He could feel his paw becoming soaked with blood, but he didn't pay it any mind. "It's alright, Stormpaw. You're going to be fine. Help is on the way."

Eventually, Mistyfoot finally returned, clutching a wad of cobwebs that she immediately pressed down onto Stormpaw's stomach. She glanced up at Fireheart, who got the message immediately and backed away. Stormpaw was in good paws now; his family would take care of him. His job now was to round up his patrol and rejoin the battle back at Fourtrees.

"Are we ready?" he asked, looking around at his warriors. Everyone was injured, but no one appeared too badly hurt.

"We're ready," Sandstorm replied, her eyes blazing.

Fireheart nodded and turned around, ready to lead his patrol back in the direction of Fourtrees. Before they could get going, however, Mistyfoot's voice called him back. Confused, he turned his head, wondering what she needed from him now. Surely she didn't think he would be able to call a medicine cat for Stormpaw now?

"Mistyfoot? What is it?" he inquired worriedly.

"I'm sorry," Mistyfoot meowed softly. "I wanted to tell you immediately, but helping Stormpaw was more important. But when I went to get the cobwebs, I saw..."

"What? What do you mean?" Mousefur spoke up, her voice harsh with fear. "What happened?"

The blue-gray RiverClan molly looked at her evenly. "Whitestorm is dead."


	11. The Hardest Choice

In the moons to come, Fireheart wouldn't remember most of the fighting that took place during the battle against the rogues from BloodClan. All he recalled was a haze of red as he clawed mercilessly at his opponents, taking out anyone who even _looked _as though they were the enemy. He stuck close to Sandstorm, and together, they were a force to be reckoned with. They took down at least a quarter of the BloodClan warriors that had fled into ThunderClan territory on their own, though Bramblepaw, Tawnypaw, and Fernpaw got the credit for taking down Bone, the BloodClan deputy.

Unfortunately, the Clans had suffered heavy losses as well. Along with Whitestorm, Stonefur, Tallpoppy, Deadfoot, Runningbrook, Wrenpaw, Pikepaw, Perchpaw, and Morningflower had all been killed. Fireheart grieved for their deaths, but he knew he couldn't afford to let his pain distract him. There was still plenty of time left for BloodClan to make a comeback; they couldn't allow themselves to start getting careless now.

"Do you think we've cleared out this area of the forest?" Sandstorm asked. Her pale green eyes were still blazing with battle fury, though Fireheart could detect a hint of weariness in her muscles.

"I can't smell any others around here," he answered, scanning the clearing one more time just to be safe. "No, it looks like we're safe."

Sandstorm relaxed slightly, letting out a sigh. "I don't know how much more of this I can take," she admitted, looking at him wearily. "My entire body aches and we still have a full day left before the battle is over. And we've lost so many cats..."

"I know," Fireheart meowed, feeling a pang as he thought of the warriors they had lost. "But BloodClan has lost more. We're going to win this battle, Sandstorm."

"You seem awfully convinced," she meowed, giving him a look. "How can you always do this? How can you always be so calm and assured?"

Fireheart shook his head. "I'm not," he replied quietly. "You don't get it. I'm not calm at all, Sandstorm, I'm terrified out of my mind, I'm exhausted, and the last thing I want to do after fighting for two days straight is to go on any longer. I haven't seen Bluestar or our kits since the start of the battle, and I'm scared that something's happened to them. And I don't know if we're going to win, Sandstorm. Okay? I really don't. But if I go around acting as though I don't believe in myself, that I don't believe in the Clans..."

"I understand," Sandstorm murmured, resting her tail on his shoulder.

Fireheart nodded and exhaled deeply. "Come on, let's go see if there are any more BloodClan warriors skulking around our territory."

They continued along their way in silence, both warriors pricking their ears for any sign of enemy warriors. The forest was quieter now, which Fireheart supposed was a good thing. At least it meant most of the fighting had ceased. He could only hope that the battle had gone in their favor. His entire body was beginning to ache, and he didn't know how much more battling he could handle.

As they were nearing the Thunderpath, a small sound caught their ears. Fireheart and Sandstorm exchanged worried glances; it sounded like a cat in pain. Without thinking, they raced in the direction of the voice, coming to a halt at the edge of the wide, foul-smelling path. A monster roared by, and both cats flinched away instinctively, scanning around for the injured cat.

"Fireheart!" Sandstorm exclaimed suddenly, her voice pained. "Fireheart, come over here! Look!"

Spinning around, Fireheart's stomach sank when he saw what his mate had been looking at. Lying at the edge of the Thunderpath was the body of a young ShadowClan apprentice. He didn't recognize the cat, so he must have begun his training very recently. His flank was covered in blood with clumps of fur torn out, all four of his legs were broken and mangled almost beyond recognition, and there was a trickle of blood coming from his mouth, a sure sign of internal bleeding. It was clear that he had been attempting to flee when he was struck by a monster. Despite his injuries, however, the apprentice was still clinging to life. But he was slipping away, and by the tears of pain in his eyes, Fireheart could tell that he was conscious enough to be aware of what was happening to him.

"What should we do?" his mate asked, staring down at the apprentice sadly. "Do you think we could...?"

"No," Fireheart whispered, already knowing what she was going to ask. "There's no time. Sandstorm, we have to..."

Sandstorm jerked her head up. "Are you saying we should _kill _him?" she asked, her voice full of disbelief.

"We don't have a choice!" he snapped, lashing his tail. "Look at him. There's no way he's going to survive those injuries in time for a medicine cat to get here. And even if he manages to live by some miracle, he'll never be a warrior. This isn't like what happened to Cinderheart. All four of his legs are damaged beyond repair; he'll never be able to hunt or fight for his Clan again. He won't even be able to drag himself to the dirtplace or the fresh-kill pile. And have you forgotten who his leader is? Do you really think Tigerstar would be compassionate enough to let a cat who can't serve his Clan stay?"

The pale ginger molly shook her head. "I know he's in pain, but surely there must be _something _we can do. It doesn't have to come down to this, does it?"

"Do you think this is easy for me to do?" Fireheart asked, struggling to keep his voice from cracking. He couldn't look at the dying ShadowClan tom, so he trained his gaze on his mate instead. "I don't want to kill him any more than you do, Sandstorm. But what else are we supposed to do? No matter what happens, he's never going to get to live a full life. Just _look at him_, will you? Don't you see how it would be kinder to end his suffering instead of forcing him to cling to life?"

Sandstorm opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a weak, rasping cry. It hadn't come from either of them, so they both knew it was the ShadowClan apprentice who had made it. He was very weak and almost unable to speak due to the numerous injuries he had suffered, but Fireheart could have sworn he was calling out for his mother.

"I'm sorry," she meowed finally, looking at him with anguish clear in her eyes. "You're right. This is the only option."

Fireheart could only nod, flicking his tail across her shoulder as he padded over to the young apprentice. As he stared down at the cat he was about to kill, he had never hated himself more. He knew that it was the right thing to do, but he couldn't ignore the fact that he was going to kill a cat barely younger than his own kits. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to steady himself. Once he had collected himself, he slashed his claws over the apprentice's throat. In an instant, the ShadowClan tom's eyes dulled and his head fell back onto the ground.

He had done it. Just like that, the apprentice was dead, freed from his suffering, and on his way to join his ancestors. Despite this, however, Fireheart couldn't summon up the least amount of satisfaction for what he'd done.

"Steady, Fireheart," Sandstorm murmured beside him, and he became aware that his legs were shaking.

"Stars above," he meowed shakily, staring down at the apprentice's body. "I just...I bloody _killed_..."

"No, you didn't," his mate meowed sharply. "You did the right thing, Fireheart. You were right; he was going to die and he was in pain. It was kinder to him to make his death a little quicker than it would have been."

Fireheart didn't answer, instead choosing to lift his head up to the sky. _StarClan, I hope this is all worth it for you. _


	12. Victory

Bluestar dodged out of the way as the BloodClan warrior she was fighting attempted to slash her throat. Despite her age, she was still a formidable warrior, and she made sure to let the rogue know that as she delivered a crushing blow to his head. The black and ginger tom went sprawling across the battlefield, dazed, and Bluestar quickly finished him off with a bite to his neck. She turned to survey the rest of the clearing, trying to ignore the pit of worry in her stomach over the fact that she hadn't seen Fireheart since the start of the battle.

The pain of losing Stonefur and Whitestorm still clawed at her insides, but she didn't have time to grieve. She couldn't even avenge her son's death properly, seeing as it would arouse suspicion. At the very least, Bluestar could rest a little easier knowing that Mistyfoot had struck down the rogue that had snuffed out his life. But she hadn't seen her daughter since then either, and the ThunderClan leader didn't know what she would do if she lost all of her kits in one day.

"Are you alright, Bluestar?" Swiftrunner meowed, bounding over to his leader.

"I'm alright, Swiftrunner, don't worry," she assured him, looking over the black and white warrior critically. He was bleeding heavily from one shoulder, but other than that, he appeared to be relatively unharmed.

"Not much longer now," Swiftrunner commented, looking up at the sun, which had just passed its highest point. "I think we're going to win this."

"Perhaps," Bluestar meowed warningly. "But remember, the fight isn't over yet. Even if BloodClan loses, I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't keep their end of the deal. They're still rogues at the end of the day."

"True," the young warrior acknowledged. "I guess I'd better get back into it, then."

Giving her one last nod, Swiftrunner sprinted away after a pair of BloodClan mollies. By now, most of the invading rogues were either dead or had fled back to their home in Twolegplace. While this was undoubtedly good news for the Clans, it also served as a reminder that Fireheart was still nowhere to be seen. The Clans had suffered their share of losses as well, and Bluestar couldn't bring herself to entertain the possibility that her youngest kit might be one of the many bodies scattered across the clearing.

She continued on her way across the clearing, knocking away any BloodClan cats who dared to cross her path. Bluestar couldn't remember the last time she had been so worried–well, actually, she could. The memory of the day Fireheart disappeared from the camp, lured away by Thistleclaw and thought to be murdered by the bloodthirsty warrior, was still burned fresh into her mind. At least when he was injured after the battle at Sunningrocks and again after ShadowClan invaded their camp, she could take comfort in the fact that he had a gifted medicine cat to look after him. But back when he went missing, she had no way of finding him, no way of knowing if he was alright.

_Where are you? _

"You!" Scourge's voice rang out, filled with hatred. "Turn and face me!"

Instinctively, Bluestar turned, only to realize that the BloodClan leader wasn't speaking to her at all. Instead, he was facing down Tigerstar, who had a bored look on his face. It was obvious that the ShadowClan leader didn't consider the smaller tom to be much of a threat, at least not to him.

"It's over, Scourge," Tigerstar meowed coolly. "Your warriors have all fled or been killed. They have learned that they have no place in the forest. It would be wise to follow them unless you wish to die as well."

However, the black tom just laughed coldly. "You're a fool, Tigerstar, and you'll die like one too."

"Am I?" the dark tabby asked, now looking faintly amused. "Pardon me, but seeing everyone around us, it certainly looks as though the Clans have more forces left standing than you do."

_Fireheart, where are you, for the love of StarClan, WHERE ARE YOU? _

"Isn't it obvious, Tigerstar?" Scourge asked softly, his tone light, as though they were merely discussing the weather. "This battle was never about territory. I couldn't care less about what happens to my warriors or any Clan cats. If any of them get in the way, they'll pay the price for it. No, I was never interested in taking the forest...or at least that wasn't my...what's the phrase again? Primary motive."

A tense silence had filled the clearing as everyone waited to see what Scourge's plan was. Even Tigerstar was looking a little uncertain of himself now, although Bluestar could see that he was trying hard not to let it show. She ignored him, however, still trying to search the clearing for her kit.

"No, indeed," Scourge repeated, still in that same soft voice. "This entire time, my target has been..._you_."

"And just why is that?" Tigerstar growled although Bluestar could detect a faint note of fear in his meow.

The BloodClan leader chuckled mirthlessly. "Why, Tigerstar, don't tell me that you've forgotten what happened all those seasons ago."

"What in the name of StarClan are you–?"

"Let me tell you a little story, then," Scourge interrupted, and there was no trace of humor, forced or otherwise, in his voice now. "A long time ago, probably before a lot of the cats here were born, there was a kittypet. When he was a kit, he decided to go out into the forest one day because, well, what kit _doesn't _enjoy a little adventure every now and then? Little did he know, the forest was home to a Clan of vicious wild cats...and it was just his bad luck that he happened to run into three of them that day."

Bluestar's eyes widened. _No...surely this can't be..._

"One of them was merciful. She told her companions that the kittypet was just a kit, that there was no need to attack him," the black tom went on. "But the other two refused to listen. The largest of them ordered the other to attack the kit. And he did as he was told. Of course, it was no contest, and the kittypet was left bleeding out by the fence. Does this story sound familiar to you now, Tigerstar?"

An expression Bluestar had never seen on her former deputy's face was now plastered across it, and it took her several heartbeats to realize that he was _afraid_. "No...that's not possible. You can't be..."

"But I am," Scourge meowed quietly. "I'm the kittypet you attacked all those seasons ago, back when you were still a young cat yourself. Your proudest victory, wasn't it, _Tigerpaw? _You, the supposed bravest and most powerful warrior in the forest according to that pathetic Darkstripe, and you left me there to die, despite knowing full well that I wouldn't be able to defend myself. Not exactly the bravest move, if I may say so. But survive I did, and I've been waiting all this time to settle the score. So, now that we're on even footing...why don't you face me like a _real _warrior?"

The thinly veiled insult was apparently too much to handle. With a snarl, Tigerstar leaped forward, his claws outstretched. Instead of watching the battle, Bluestar took the opportunity to slip away in search of her son. Just as she was about to leave the battlefield, however, a screech caught her attention. But the voice it belonged to wasn't Scourge, but Tigerstar. Stunned, Bluestar spun around to see the ShadowClan leader on the ground, blood pulsating out of a gash that stretched from his throat down to his stomach. As she watched, he thrashed about wildly for a few heartbeats before lying still, and she knew that he was with StarClan, preparing for his remaining eight lives.

_StarClan can't heal that wound..._

Soon, Tigerstar's body gave one last jerk and lay still. She tore her gaze away again and continued to search for Fireheart. The fate of ShadowClan's leader wasn't of any interest to her, and she knew there was no saving Tigerstar anymore. Her only concern was finding her son and making sure that he was alright.

"You see now," Scourge meowed contemptuously, turning to face the rest of the Clan cats. "This is a battle you cannot win. You have defeated my warriors, true, but you cannot defeat me. If the one whom you all believe is the strongest cat in the forest cannot beat me, how can any of you possibly hope to?"

"I wouldn't be too sure of that if I were you," a painfully familiar voice meowed.

Bluestar froze. _Fireheart? Fireheart, please...oh, my precious son, please..._

And just like all those moons ago, somehow, Fireheart found his way back to her.

The ThunderClan deputy padded forward, side by side with Sandstorm. He was injured, but, Bluestar was relieved to see, not critically so. As he walked forward, he held his head high, showing no trace of fear.

"Is that so?" Scourge asked, chuckling. "Pardon me, but what do you think you could possibly do?"

"Enough," Fireheart meowed, his voice ringing out across the clearing. "In case you haven't noticed, you're still outnumbered. You might have beaten Tigerstar, but he's just one cat you'll have to face. Every cat in this forest has something worth fighting for, and every single one is prepared to fight you to the death if necessary. If you're going to destroy the Clans, we'll make sure to bring you down with us. And that's because we, all of us in some way, have something that none of your followers had."

"And what might that be?" the BloodClan cat asked contemptuously.

"Loyalty," Fireheart answered softly.

Scourge sneered at him. "My warriors are loyal."

"No." It was Sandstorm who spoke this time. "They are not loyal to you, Scourge, they follow you out of fear. That isn't loyalty. None of them laid down their lives for you. They, all of them, were simply motivated by their own selfish agendas, just as you were. That is what sets the Clans apart from rogues such as yourself and the rest of BloodClan, and that is why you will not walk away the victor today."

"We'll give you one last chance before we attack," Fireheart warned him. "And I do mean _we_, Scourge because in case you haven't figured it out, we're going to fight you together. But don't think for a moment that you're the only one who's ever felt the way you did toward Tigerstar. We've all been driven to that point before, the point where we're nearly blinded by our anger. What matters is whether we choose to act on it. So, what will it be, Scourge? Will you walk away now or let your rage drive you to your death?"

Scourge's answer was to let out a bloodcurdling screech and launch himself at Fireheart, his claws outstretched. Quick as a flash, Fireheart ducked to the side, sending the black tom sprawling in Sandstorm's direction, raking his claws down Scourge's flank as he went by. Sandstorm took advantage of the BloodClan rogue's momentary lapse of concentration to pin him face-first into the ground, using her other paw to deliver a blow to the side of his head. After a few heartbeats of struggling, he managed to throw her off, but Fireheart was there. Before anyone could realize what was happening, the two cats slashed their claws across Scourge's throat before stepping back, watching as he fell to the ground. This time, he did not get back up.

For a moment, the clearing was filled with stunned silence. Then, all at once, the Clans erupted into triumphant yowls, all of them racing forward at once to congratulate Fireheart and Sandstorm, the ones who had saved them, the reason they wouldn't have to abandon their home after all. Ravenflight and Dustpelt were the first to reach them, followed by Mistyfoot, Silverstream, Featherpaw, Russetfur, and even more cats that Bluestar was too distracted to name at the moment. She waited impatiently for her son to reach her. When he finally emerged from the throng of cats, she rushed forward and smothered him with licks, just as she had wanted to do when he first returned to her but couldn't.

"Mama," Fireheart whispered. He sounded relieved, but tired as well.

"I'm so proud of you," Bluestar murmured. "You and Sandstorm fought wonderfully."

"I think I could use a nap," he chuckled wearily.

"I think we all could," she agreed.

They were celebrating now, she knew, but the real battle was only just beginning. Now, the Clans would have to heal their wounds, and the pain of losing so many of their Clanmates was sure to make them sting even more. Bluestar felt her shoulders weigh down as she thought of the cats they would have to bury when they returned back to their camp. But, she reflected, at least they still _had _a camp to bury them at, and that thought was enough to lend strength to her aching muscles.

"Come on," she meowed, brushing her nose against her kit's ear. "Let's get back home."


	13. Repercussions

Fortunately, most of the survivors in ThunderClan escaped without any major injuries. When they returned to the camp, Fireheart and Sandstorm were immediately pounced on by their kits, all of whom clambered on top of their parents in an attempt to pin them down. Squirrelpaw brushed her head against her father's shoulder affectionately, while Redpaw and Spotpaw bounded around the two older warriors, delighted at having their parents alive and well.

"Hello, dears," Sandstorm purred, giving Rainpaw a lick between her ears. "Are the four of you alright?"

"Yep! Nobody came here. We kept a _really _good watch," Squirrelpaw meowed proudly.

"Well, we're both very proud of you," the pale ginger molly chuckled.

Eventually, Fireheart and Sandstorm managed to untangle themselves from their children. As soon as they did, they found themselves surrounded by their other Clanmates, all of them congratulating the two heroes on defeating Scourge. Cinderheart and Thornclaw in particular were loudly boasting to everyone about how well their former mentors had fought in the battle.

"It was amazing," Cinderheart meowed to rapt attention. "They were like real LionClan warriors. I'll bet they killed almost half of BloodClan's warriors all on their own."

"They didn't even break a sweat," Thornclaw added. "Tigerstar himself couldn't have done it."

"Really?" Ashpaw asked, staring at the two warriors in admiration.

Sandstorm laughed. "I don't know about _that_, but we did manage to take care of quite a few of them."

Bluestar watched the scene from afar as her warriors bombarded Fireheart and Sandstorm with praise, feeling a surge of pride. There was no doubt that their names would be continued to be passed on for generation after generation, the tale of their heroic battle to save the Clans told by elders until the end of time. It was the least they deserved after what they had accomplished.

Yet as she looked at her son, she couldn't see any satisfaction in his eyes, any sense of triumph. Instead, his gaze was dull and weary, and he didn't seem to notice the almost revering looks being sent his way. Eventually, the others noticed Fireheart's apathy as well and frowned.

"Fireheart? Is everything okay?" Brightheart asked worriedly.

Fireheart blinked, seeming to snap back to attention, though the dull look in his eyes didn't fade. "I'm alright," he meowed curtly. "The elders should prepare for Whitestorm's vigil. In the meantime, the rest of you should eat. We've had a long three days."

With that, he turned around and padded away toward the camp entrance, disappearing through the gorse tunnel. The others watched him go, expressions of confusion and worry on their faces. They might not know exactly what was making Fireheart behave the way he was, but they knew it had to be something serious. Only Sandstorm didn't seem puzzled as to what was bothering her mate, judging by the look of sadness in her pale green gaze.

"What's wrong with him?" Longtail asked, staring after the spot Fireheart had just disappeared from. "Isn't he glad that we won?"

"He is," Sandstorm meowed quietly. "He's just dealing with a lot right now."

"Did something happen during the battle?" Mousefur inquired, looking concerned.

Sandstorm didn't answer, but the look on her face told everyone all they needed to know.

"What was it?" Brightheart pressed the older molly.

"It's not my place to say," the pale ginger queen meowed, shaking her head. "If I know Fireheart, he won't want everyone in the Clan knowing about what happened. We just need to give him a little time to himself right now."

But Bluestar wasn't about to just let her kit go off and brood by himself. Whether he was aware of it or not, she knew he needed someone to talk to. She would be a poor excuse for a mother if she didn't at least try to help him. Turning around, she walked toward the gorse tunnel and out of the camp.

Fortunately, it didn't take long to find Fireheart. Within moments, Bluestar managed to track him to a clearing several tree-lengths away from the camp. When she found him, he was staring blankly at a tree, the same dull, weary expression on his face. He didn't even seem to realize that she was there. Slowly, she walked forward and placed her tail on her kit's shoulder, causing him to turn his gaze toward her.

"Hey, there," she meowed softly. "What's going on?"

Fireheart averted his eyes, turning to stare at the ground. "Nothing," he muttered. "I'm fine."

"You and I both know that isn't true," Bluestar meowed gently. She exhaled slowly. "Fireheart, I know you don't always like to talk about your feelings and I won't pretend to know what you're going through, but you need to tell me what's going on. It's not healthy to try to hold it all in."

"There's really no need to worry about me," her son protested, shaking his head. "I can deal with it just fine."

"I'm your mother, Fireheart. It's my job to worry about you," she replied, gently stroking his back. "Besides, we both know what happened the last time you tried to 'deal with it' on your own."

She was referring, of course, to when Fireheart finally cracked under the pressure of keeping up the strong facade he felt he had to put up for his Clanmates in the wake of Brightheart's injury and Rainkit's murder. Evidently, her son realized what she was talking about as well, for he exhaled deeply, looking more defeated and haunted than ever. The effect it had made Bluestar's heart crack. For a moment, it was hard to remember that Fireheart was actually the youngest deputy in the forest.

After several long moments, he finally meowed softly, "During the battle, I...I killed a ShadowClan apprentice."

Bluestar blinked. "What exactly happened?" she asked. She knew her kit wasn't a murderer, so there had to be more to the story. "Was it an accident?"

"Not exactly," Fireheart admitted, still staring down at the ground. "Sandstorm and I were near the Thunderpath, trying to see if we could find any more BloodClan warriors. While we were there, we heard a cat cry out in pain. We followed the sound, and we came across an injured ShadowClan apprentice. I didn't recognize him from any Gatherings, so he must have started training very recently. He had been hit by a monster. Somehow, he was still alive, but..."

He trailed off for a moment, and Bluestar prompted, "But what?"

"But...he was in bad shape. _Really _bad shape," he continued, shaking his head. "All four of his legs were completely mangled almost beyond recognition, and he was covered in blood. He was dying for sure, but it was happening slowly enough that he was in pain and aware of what was happening to him."

"So you made the decision to end his life for him," she concluded.

"I thought I was doing the right thing at the time," Fireheart meowed quietly. "With those injuries, even if he had managed to survive by some miracle, there's no possible way he would ever have been able to lead a normal life. He would never have been able to walk again; he wouldn't even be able to drag himself back and forth to the fresh-kill pile or the dirtplace. I thought it would be kinder to kill him. But now...I don't know anymore. All I can think about now is how _easily _the decision to kill him came to me. And I can't help but think that–that cats like Darkstripe and Brokentail–"

"Fireheart. No," Bluestar interrupted, draping her tail around her son's shoulders. "You are _nothing _like them. They murdered innocent cats because they were motivated by their own selfish desires for power and glory. The apprentice you found was almost definitely going to die anyway. He was in pain, and you chose to show him mercy and put his suffering at an end. I'm sure he's grateful to you for doing so."

"Is he?" the flame-colored warrior asked dubiously. "I know I ended his suffering, but I also ended his hopes of becoming a warrior someday. And if that's not enough, I tore apart his family too. Sure, the monster did most of the work, but I finished the job. Great StarClan, he was so young...he probably hadn't been an apprentice for more than a few days. He must have been so excited to fight in his first battle, and that's how it had to end. And his parents...I can't even imagine...I mean, what if it had been Squirrelpaw, Redpaw, Rainpaw, or Spotpaw instead? His parents must have been so proud of him, and now..."

"It's not your fault," Bluestar meowed firmly. "Sometimes, bad things just happen and there's nothing anyone can do about it. His parents wouldn't have wanted him to be forced to live a half-life. You did the right thing."

"Doesn't make me feel any better about having to do it," Fireheart returned.

"No," she agreed. "And it probably won't. But you'll learn to move on eventually. Doing the right thing isn't always glorious. Sometimes, you have to make hard decisions as well."

"Tell me about it," Fireheart murmured. He shook his head and meowed quietly, "Thanks, Mama. I...I think we should probably head back to the camp now. It's probably almost time for Whitestorm's vigil."

"Alright," Bluestar murmured, giving her kit's ears a gentle lick.

He still wasn't feeling better, she could tell, but he was at least making an effort to move past what had happened. She could only hope that, someday, he would be able to make peace with the decision he had been forced to make.


	14. Living Again

One moon after the battle with BloodClan ended, it would be a lie to say that the forest wasn't still recovering from its aftermath.

The ThunderClan camp was entirely too silent. Warriors ate their meals in silence, and, when they did hold a conversation here and there, their voices were somber and quiet. None of the apprentices bothered play-fighting anymore. Even the kits were unusually subdued, apparently picking up on the moods of their older Clanmates.

Of course, that could also have a bit to do with what they had lost.

Willowpelt refused to eat or sleep, choosing instead to sit outside the nursery, her eyes dull and her fur matted and dirty. She refused to speak to anyone, even to her two remaining kits. It had been so long since she had said a word that, at times, it was difficult to remember what her voice sounded like.

Sandstorm constantly turned to ask for advice that would never be given to her again. On several occasions, her family caught her looking around the camp expectantly, only for the realization to hit, followed by bleak sorrow. Whenever this happened, anyone who noticed immediately looked away, feeling as though they had intruded on a private personal conversation.

Sorrelkit and Sootkit could no longer be lulled to sleep by nursery stories. It wasn't the stories themselves that were the problem, seeing as they were the same ones they had been told all their lives. But the voices that told them were all wrong now.

Fireheart worked himself overtime, organizing patrols left and right, fixing and re-fixing every hole in the camp wall, and ensuring that the fresh-kill pile was well-stocked. Whenever there wasn't any work for him to do, he disappeared for hours on end to go hunting. Although nobody said anything, it was impossible to miss the fact that during these hunting missions, he came back with very little fresh-kill and plenty of torn and bleeding claws.

Bluestar acted as though everything was fine, as though she had already lost so much, she was able to bounce back immediately. But her eyes followed Fireheart around the camp wherever he went, refusing to let him out of her sight for even a moment. And if any cats went near her den during the middle of the night, they would hear her muttering apologies in her sleep. Sometimes, they were to Whitestorm, and other times, they were to a cat named Snowfur. Strangely enough, on a few occasions, Snowfur's name would come out sounding more like Stonefur's.

Dustpelt couldn't meet anyone's eyes, fearful of what he would see in them if he happened to look up. He ate his meals alone, he slept outside the camp, and, if he did need to speak to anyone, he made sure to keep the conversation as short as possible. Even Ravenflight couldn't get his brother to snap out of it.

_That killing blow was meant for me, _he thought, staring up at the sky. _Not you. _

Nobody wanted to walk outside the camp by themselves anymore. Whenever a cat wanted to go for a walk or on a hunt, one of their friends always went with them. They jumped at every unexpected sound, and the stench of the rogues seemed to cling to every leaf, twig, and shard of rock. Yellowfang remarked to Spotpaw one day that she hadn't used up so much thyme and chamomile in all her time as a medicine cat.

They were all alive–at least in the technical sense of the word. Perhaps, in that case, they should have been a little more grateful, a little more optimistic. Their hearts were beating, their bodies were functioning, and they were _breathing_.

It was just hard to be grateful for anything when there didn't seem to be much of a point to it all anymore.

* * *

With morale in the forest being as low as it was, it was difficult to remember that there were still a few good things for everyone to look forward to. The battle with BloodClan had cast a dark cloud over the Clans that didn't show any signs of lifting anytime soon. The worst part was that the cloud refused to rain, which only made its presence seem even drearier.

Needless to say, Fireheart was extremely caught off guard when, one day, Mousefur and Dustpelt approached him to tell him that Ashpaw and Fernpaw were ready to receive their warrior names.

"Already?" he asked, surprised. Then he paused for a few moments. "I suppose it _is _about time, isn't it?"

"Do you think we could hold the ceremony tonight?" Dustpelt asked, looking at Fireheart hopefully. It was the first spark of emotion he had seen in the brown tabby's eyes in nearly half a moon.

"I don't see why not," Fireheart agreed, nodding. "I'll speak to Bluestar and let her know now."

As soon as he gave his promise, a look of pure delight spread over the faces of the two mentors. It was fleeting, but the effect it had was astounding. For a few moments, it felt as though all of the lingering pain, guilt, and grief from the battle had disappeared along with the morning mist.

"Thank you, Fireheart. I'll go inform Ashpaw now, if you don't mind," Mousefur meowed, dipping her head to the flame-colored tom respectfully.

Fireheart nodded, then turned to Dustpelt, expecting him to leave to speak to Fernpaw as well. However, his friend merely shifted about uncomfortably, staring down at his paws. He stared at Dustpelt in confusion, wondering what could be bothering him now. Was he having second thoughts about promoting Fernpaw?

"Er, Dustpelt?" he prompted after several moments of silence. "Is everything alright? You do still want to go through with the ceremony, don't you?"

"Fine, fine. Yes, of course, I still want to go through with it," his friend reassured him. He took a deep breath. "It's just...well, I don't really know how to put this, but...I've decided I'm going to leave ThunderClan."

Out of everything he thought the brown tabby warrior might have said, that hadn't even been anywhere near the list of possibilities. For a few moments, there was nothing Fireheart could do except stare at Dustpelt silently, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the right words to say.

Finally, he managed to ask, "Why?"

Dustpelt let out a sigh. "I just...I don't think I can do this anymore, Fireheart. I'm sorry. It's too hard, being able to serve my Clan, getting to enjoy all the perks of being a warrior when Whitestorm is dead."

"Dustpelt, that wasn't your fault," Fireheart protested, shaking his head. "You're not the one who killed him, are you? If you want to blame anyone, blame the BloodClan rogue who actually struck the blow. Or, better yet, blame Darkstripe for being the one to lead the rogues to the forest in the first place."

"I _know_, Fireheart," the brown tabby meowed softly. "But I just don't think I can handle this anymore. I know everything you're saying is true, but I can't make myself forget that the killing blow was supposed to be for me. I've tried, Fireheart. Believe me, I've tried to move on. I've spent more nights than I can count forcing myself to stay awake to avoid the nightmares, I've probably taken about half of Yellowfang's stock of poppy seeds, and I've tried to go on extra patrols to keep my mind occupied. Nothing's working. And whenever I see Willowpelt, Sorrelkit, and Sootkit, I'm always reminded of everything Whitestorm left behind...just so that _I _could live. I'm _sorry_. I just...I need to be somewhere I'm not being haunted by memories, and that isn't going to happen if I stay in ThunderClan."

A wave of sorrow washed over Fireheart. Amidst his own grief over Whitestorm's death, he had forgotten what his friend must be feeling. He wanted to protest, to tell Dustpelt that things would get better eventually. But he knew better than to make an empty promise, and the truth was, he didn't know if things would get better eventually. StarClan knew there were still times he felt a twinge of shame whenever he saw Cinderheart's injured leg. Perhaps Dustpelt was right–perhaps it was best for him to leave.

It was strange, he reflected. When they were apprentices, he would have given anything for Dustpelt to leave. But things had changed between them.

"I understand," he murmured finally, unable to keep a note of sadness out of his voice.

Dustpelt relaxed visibly. "Thank you," he meowed, brushing his tail over Fireheart's shoulder. "I knew you would understand."

"Does Ravenflight know?" Fireheart inquired.

The older warrior nodded. "I spoke to him yesterday," he replied. "He was upset, understandably, but he understood why I have to leave too."

"Where are you going to go?" Fireheart asked.

"I don't know. Somewhere beyond Clan territory, definitely," Dustpelt answered. "Maybe I'll see if there's anything past Twolegplace. I guess I'll know what I'm looking for when I find it, though."

* * *

Later that evening, Fireheart watched as Fernpaw and Ashpaw received their warrior names, taking on the names Ferncloud and Ashfur. As he cheered for them along with the rest of the Clan, he found his gaze wandering over to where Dustpelt and Ravenflight were sitting together. The two warriors looked solemn, and Fireheart felt a twinge of pity for his friends. ThunderClan was about to lose a valuable warrior, but, more importantly, Ravenflight was about to lose his brother.

At last, when the cheers had died down and Ferncloud and Ashfur were sent away for their vigil, Fireheart stood up and padded over to Dustpelt and Ravenflight. Sandstorm joined them, as did Bluestar. A look of silent understanding was exchanged between the warriors, and they turned and padded out of the camp in the direction of Twolegplace.

_It's really happening, isn't it? _Fireheart thought to himself. _He's really going through with this. _

In what felt like almost no time at all, they were standing in front of the all-too-familiar wooden fence. Taking a deep breath, Dustpelt turned around to face his Clanmates–his brother, his best friends, and his leader–one last time. There was an expression of sorrow in his eyes, and Fireheart realized how much it was hurting him to abandon the home he had known since he was a kit. But beneath the sorrow, there was resolve as well, and he knew there would be no changing his mind.

"This is it, then," Dustpelt murmured. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Sandstorm replied softly.

"Take care of yourself," Ravenflight added, his voice shaking ever so slightly. "Don't forget about us here in ThunderClan, okay? That's a promise."

"I won't, Ravenflight," the brown tabby promised. "I could never forget. You just make sure our–your–Clanmates don't forget about _me_."

"They won't, I'll see to that. We all will," Fireheart meowed firmly. "We'll make sure everyone knows what a great warrior you were...and what a great friend and brother you were too."

Bluestar stepped forward next. "ThunderClan will miss your strength and loyalty, Dustpelt, and we wish you all the best. I'm sorry we weren't able to do more to help you."

Dustpelt shook his head. "Don't apologize, Bluestar. It isn't anyone's fault. There are just too many memories here, and that's not something that anyone can do to change."

He took a deep breath and addressed everyone one last time. "Maybe someday, when this is all over, we'll see each other again."

With that, he turned around and sprang onto the top of the fence. For a brief moment, Dustpelt glanced back one last time, as if he were considering whether he really wanted to leave behind his family after all. When his gaze met Fireheart's, a silent promise seemed to form between them. Somehow, someway, they would find a way to meet each other again.

Then he turned around and jumped onto the other side, disappearing from view.


	15. Our Story

Cherry blossom petals swirled to the ground as Sandstorm padded through the forest with Fireheart, followed closely by Squirrelpaw, Redpaw, and Rainpaw. The newleaf season was slowly but surely spreading its warmth through the Clan territories, and they had decided to spend the day together as a family. Unfortunately, Spotpaw couldn't come since he was on his way to the Moonstone for the half-moon meeting with Yellowfang, but Fireheart and Sandstorm had promised to organize a time to go on a walk with him after he returned.

"Wow, look at those petals! They're so pretty," Squirrelpaw meowed in awe, staring wide-eyed as they fell like pink-tinted snowflakes.

"Yes, they are," Sandstorm murmured.

She glanced over to her left at Fireheart, feeling a surge of warmth in her chest at the peaceful, contented expression on her mate's face. With how busy he had been lately, organizing patrols and ensuring that the other Clans didn't decide to start causing trouble, he rarely had time to relax anymore. Of course, that was only to be expected, but Sandstorm wished Fireheart would take better care of himself. Even after all this time, he still didn't seem to understand that his well-being was just as important as anyone else's–and, though she was admittedly extremely biased, she would say considerably more important than a lot of cats'.

It was amazing how little self-worth he seemed to have. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and their time together, first as friends, then as mates, had been the happiest of her life. Yet, even so, he continued to put everyone else's health and happiness above his own.

"You seem like you're in a good mood," she noted softly.

Fireheart flashed her a warm glance. "It's a nice day out," he replied.

"That it is," Sandstorm agreed, brushing her cheek against his.

"Hey, Mom, Dad?" Squirrelpaw's voice broke in, interrupting the two older cats. "When do you think we'll receive our warrior names? It's been forever since Ferncloud and Ashfur got theirs."

"Only three moons, Squirrelpaw. Be patient," Fireheart chastised her gently, his voice laced with amusement. "Don't forget, you're still younger than Snowpaw, and he hasn't received his name yet. Your ceremonies will probably be after his."

"When will that be?" Rainpaw asked curiously.

"Soon, most likely within the next quarter of a moon or so," the flame-colored warrior answered. "I'll have to speak to Bluestar about that. But he's definitely earned his name."

"What will his warrior name be?" Redpaw asked, looking at his father eagerly.

"Well, nobody except for Bluestar knows that for sure," Fireheart replied, exchanging a glance with Sandstorm. "But whatever it is, I'm sure Snowpaw will bear it with pride. The name itself doesn't really matter as much as the cat."

Sandstorm murmured softly in agreement, watching as more cherry blossom petals tumbled and drifted in front of her. She was looking forward to learning what Snowpaw's warrior name would be just as much as anyone else. All the apprentices worked hard to earn their names, but with Snowpaw, it seemed to be an even higher honor than usual. When he had first started training, almost nobody thought he could make it, yet here he was, about to prove them wrong once and for all.

That was part of the reason she was so fond of him; he was willing to take on even the most seemingly hopeless of cases. When everyone else had given up, Fireheart never let go of his belief that anyone could become a warrior with the right training. If he hadn't believed in Cinderheart, she would most likely have been forced to become a medicine cat. Not that there was anything wrong with being a medicine cat, of course, but it had never been her dream. And if he hadn't believed in Snowpaw, who knew what would have happened to him?

"What do you think _our _warrior names will be?" Squirrelpaw piped up again.

"I'm not sure," Fireheart admitted.

"I want my name to be Squirrelstorm, like Mom. Or maybe Squirrelfire like you, Dad," she insisted.

"Well, thank you, dear," Sandstorm chuckled. "I'm sure we would both be honored."

"If Bluestar names you Squirrelstorm, then she can name me Redfire," Redpaw insisted. He paused, then added, "Or Redheart. Either one works."

"I don't think Rainstorm or Rainfire sound like very good names," Rainpaw admitted quietly. "But do you think Rainpetal would be a good name? I like flowers."

Sandstorm rested her tail on her daughter's shoulder gently. "That sounds like a lovely name, sweetheart."

Soon after, they reached the base of Sunningrocks. Sandstorm glanced at the mass of stones, remembering the fight there that had nearly cost Stormpaw his life. The young RiverClan apprentice had only barely managed to cling to life. She wondered how he and Featherpaw were coping, as well as the rest of RiverClan.

Life in the forest had changed drastically since the battle against BloodClan. Tigerstar was dead, killed in one blow by Scourge, and Russetstar had taken his place as ShadowClan's leader. According to the rumors, it was the first time a molly had become the leader of ShadowClan in several generations. Stonefur was dead as well, and Leopardstar had chosen Mistyfoot to replace him. WindClan had lost their deputy too, and Mudclaw was now standing where Deadfoot had once stood. All in all, Sandstorm was just relieved that both Fireheart and Bluestar had made it out of the battle alive.

She wondered how long it would be until Fireheart took Bluestar's position as ThunderClan leader. Bluestar was getting old, and there were rumors that she was on her last life. For Fireheart's sake, she hoped that the old molly still had a few seasons left in her. He didn't need to lose his mother, not yet.

"Look, Mom! Look at what I caught!" Squirrelpaw's voice broke her out of her thoughts, and she turned around to see her daughter holding a large rabbit in her jaws. "Isn't it so big? I'll bet this is the biggest rabbit anyone's ever caught!"

"Well done," Sandstorm purred.

"_I _caught something too," Redpaw broke in, showing off a blackbird.

"Me too," Rainpaw piped up, though in a much quieter tone than her siblings. Her catch was a juicy-looking vole.

"We're very proud of all of you," Fireheart meowed warmly. "You've inherited your mother's hunting skills, that's for sure."

"And your father's fighting skills as well," Sandstorm added.

Squirrelpaw puffed her chest out. "When I get my warrior name, I'm going to be the best warrior ThunderClan's ever seen. _And _I'm going to become Clan leader one day, and Rainpaw will be my deputy."

"That sounds like a wonderful plan, sweetheart," Fireheart purred as Redpaw cried indignantly, "Hey! But _I _want to be your deputy!"

"It's okay, Redpaw. We can share," Rainpaw offered, and her brother immediately perked up.

"Okay," he agreed happily.

Sandstorm shook her head fondly, entwining her tali with Fireheart's as they watched their children laughing together. They had been out of the nursery for a few moons now, but in a way, they were still just as innocent as they were when they were kits. But they had grown up as well, and even now, they still had seasons upon seasons ahead of them. In a few more short moons, they would be warriors...and then what? Perhaps they would find mates of their own and start their own families. Eventually, Spotpaw would replace Yellowfang as ThunderClan's medicine cat. Maybe Squirrelpaw's dream of becoming ThunderClan's leader would come true. Whatever happened, one thing Sandstorm knew for sure was that their story wasn't over yet.

No, indeed, it was far from over.

* * *

**This concludes "Echoing Flames: The Darkest Hour", as well as the TBP part of the series. I'll work on starting TNP eventually, just as soon as I get a few more details ironed out. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**-TheShadowedWarrior**


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